The Underland Games of HGT
by xoSanna-Chanxo
Summary: After too many phonecalls, Scholastic becomes angry. After the Hunger Games convention, a kidnapping occurs. What will happen when the forum-gang steps in to investigate? Hunger Games/ Underland Chronicles Crossover. Cowritten by Sombrita and Santastic.
1. Prologue

.: Prologue:.

There is always more than one side to a story.

This holds true for everything. There is always another person's view to consider, the effects of character's decisions to equate, and the animal's perspective. You can create an alternate world for anything, where anything can happen. Stories are miraculous.

But this story doesn't need any more sides. It revolves around three sections, three different locations where the story takes place. It is told from the views of as many of us that were there that summer.

How do I know this? How is it that I can relate the entire story to you? Because I was there when it happened. Because I played a key role. Because I, along with my friends, helped to determine the fate of the entire world.

_Fly you high, and may the odds be ever in your favor. _


	2. Chapter 1

_**A/N: **__**We're pissed at Scholastic. The forums are good. Inspired by a late-night YIM conversation. Yes, the characters are based off forum-goers, and we have their permission. Enjoy!**___

**Part 1- Real Life**

~1~

"Hello, this is Scholastic," said a calm, cool voice. "My name is Carla. How may I assist you today?"

Samantha Harp took a deep breath and collected her wits. Then, in as businesslike of a voice as she could muster, she said, "Hello. My name is Samantha Harp, and I'm a Moderator on _The Hunger Games _Unofficial Fan Forum. We were wondering when the results of _The Hunger Games_ Writing Contest would be announced?"

Carla's tone turned sickeningly sweet. "You're here on behalf of an _unofficial fan _forum? Really? Well, isn't that just the cutest thing,"

Sammy's heart thudded. "Um. Yeah, well, see… the list was supposed to be posted a week and a half ago, but it wasn't. And no one seems to be able to tell us any information about the delay."

There was a brief pause the other end of the line; a silence for which Sam held her breath. When Carla spoke again, all traces of her so-called professionalism was gone. "Look, kid. We've been receiving a crap load of calls from you brats at the 'Unofficial Fan Forum'. To be perfectly straight—it bugs the crap out of all of us here. Especially me. And trust me, kid, you don't want to be on my bad side."

Cheeks flushing red, Sammy couldn't help but respond, "Oooh, I'm so scared."

"You should be."

"Is this how you treat all of your customers? Look, we're not in the wrong here. You are. You gave yourselves a deadline, and that date has come and passed. The least you can do is pretend to be remorseful."

The woman on the other end of the line laughed humorlessly. "You children don't understand anything at all, do you? The world is a changing place. Things won't always be like this. By this time next year.…"

"Okay, first off, I'm not a child. I'm thirteen and a half. Fourteen, come November. That's a teenager, not a child. Secondly, I came here to ask you about the writing contest, not to get preached at. And third- well, I didn't actually have a third. But if I did—"

"What did you say your name was?"

"Wha—excuse me?"

"Your name. Samantha…Carp?"

"No. No, it's Samantha _Harp_. But—"

"Where do you live, Samantha?"

"That's information that I'd prefer not to disclose—"

"Are you, by any chance, going to be attending the Hunger Games Convention in Alabama later this week?"

Samantha stopped. Asking for her name was one thing, but asking for her location? That was different. Darker, almost. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm a profiler, Sammy. It's what I do."

"Why did you call me Sammy?"

"I'm a profiler, Sammy. It all fits. Now, answer the question. Are you going to the convention?"

"Are _you?_"

Sammy could almost see Carla's noxious smile, the smirk in her tone was so pronounced. "Maybe. I sure hope to see you there, Sammy."

"Well, I—"

_Click._

The phone went dead, and Sammy stared at it. She held it out at arms length as if Carla's grotesque nature could rub off on her by simply touching the artifact. Then she dropped it, and, with a disgusted expression on her faces, stalked off to her room to use the computer.

•••

Dally Leary leaned casually against the column, scanning the busy airport for signs of young life. Namely girls. Pretty girls.

Having just flown in from Ireland, a twelve-hour flight in all, he probably looked a little bit worse for the wear. His light hair was tucked securely into a baseball cap, and he wore a slightly crinkled uniform from his Irish Catholic School. Not the ideal choice of clothing for international traveling, but he had wanted to be in Alabama early so that he could "see the sights." The _girl_ sights, that was. Not that he told his mother that… nay, the only reason that he had been released from school early and allowed to fly by himself to America was because it was, in a way, educational. He so dearly loved the book _The Hunger Games_ that his teachers thought that it would be healthy for him to attend a convention. That, and the promise of a thousand extra credit reports kept his mother off of his back.

But the book wasn't the only reason that Dally had come to the convention. As a Moderator on _The Hunger Games_ Unofficial Fan Forum, he'd vowed to come early and introduce himself to the other members of the site. And there was one girl in particular—one other moderator, to be exact—that would be meeting him today. Any minute now.

Dally pulled nervously at his uniform.

•••

Abby Malians refreshed the page for what seemed to be the millionth time, then closed her eyes and groaned. No matter how often she changed the page, no matter how late the day grew, it didn't change the fact that not one single friend of hers was online. And this frustrated her to no ends. Sure, real life was fun enough at times, but nothing beat being online. There was just something about feeling the mouse beneath her hand, scrolling down the web pages… Abby sighed. It was amazing, absolutely amazing.

She logged on to her absolute favorite website, a fan forum for Suzanne Collins' _Hunger Games. _Maybe some of her exotic Internet buddies would be online, bored out of their skulls and in need of companionship. Just like her.

Just as she was about to check her private messages, an icon on the bottom of screen popped up, bearing warnings about an incoming message. Abby narrowed her eyes. How ironic; just as she found something exciting, she was interrupted. Nevertheless, she pressed her mouse key, and, in a second, her YIM account was up and exploding with life.

Sammybears104: Abby-poopoo-kins!

Sammybears104: Are you there, Abbster?

Sammybears104: Seriously, Abby, I need to talk to you!

Abby smiled and shook her head. Sammy was one of the people whom she had met on the Hunger Games Forum, thus ensuring her to be either insanely awesome or insanely insane. Like most of the fans, she was a mix of the two- serious and shy for the most part, then insane when she was hyper.

I_Drink_With_A_Sippycup: Relax, Sammy, I'm here.

Sammybears104: Thank god. I just had the weirdest conversation with a Scholastic Employee.

I_Drink_With_A_Sippycup: Did she hear you talking about porn again?

Sammybears104: NO. That was an accident, the other time, BTW.

I_Drink_With_A_Sippycup: Yeah, sure. Okay.

Sammybears104: It was, I swear! Now, do you want to hear my story or not?

Abby grinned wider as she read Sam's tale. As she neared the end, she felt the smile drop from her face like a weight.

I_Drink_With_A_Sippycup: WTF??

Sammybears104: I know! She was so creepy!

I_Drink_With_A_Sippycup: Weirdo's. Just ignore her, Sammy. Or better yet, get Jennifer to find out whom she is.

Mindforecaster43: Did someone say my name?

Abby laughed out loud. It was an annoying and quirky trait of Jen's just to randomly pop up in any chat. Her mind casting abilities had only recently developed enough for her to fool full power computers; people were still an obstacle far off in the future. She could also make objects move and explode when she focused on them enough.

Jennifer co-ran the forum with her assistant, Leo.

I_Drink_With_A_Sippycup: What, the weirdo's part?

Sammybears104: Hello, Jen!

Mindforecaster43: Hey, Sam. You're not feeling very settled today, are you?

I_Drink_With_A_Sippycup: What are you, a fortuneteller?

Mindforecaster43: Why? Do you think that I have that potential?

I_Drink_With_A_Sippycup: What, to live in a shack and steal money from people? Absolutely.

Sammybears104: Can you track someone for me, Jennifer?

Mindforecaster43: Of course.

Sammybears104: Carla.

Mindforecaster43: Okay. Carla…what?

Sammybears104: Um…I don't know.

Mindforecaster43: Well then, I can't help you.

I_Drink_With_A_Sippycup: BORING. Anyone want to video chat?

Sammybears104: Sure.

Mindforecaster43: Why not?

•••

David Rayne gripped the block tightly, the serrated plastic edging digging into his palms. The world grew into a blur around him as a light flashed and the starter's gun fired. He pushed off with some of his might, and hit the water like a knife.

Breath, stroke, kick. It was the same pattern as he had ever used, but it was different. Now that he had his powers, he had to control himself and _not_ go as fast as he could.

Ana very cleverly called his power the "Neptune Effect." Not after the planet—after the Roman god. All of his life, water had been David's world. Now it literally was. Breathing no longer mattered—not while he was under water, at least. His swimming skills also dramatically increased. Sometimes, he even felt as if he could outswim a dolphin. Not that he shared those ideas with the rest of his swim team—for all they knew, he had simply become a good swimmer. He was always careful to go fast enough to win, but slow enough to not bring suspicion to himself.

He neared the end of the race, exerting a little bit more speed than he had previous. He grabbed the wall and was met with cheers and whistles from the forthcoming swimmers.

Not only could David glide easily in the water, he could also swim in the air. It was an odd thing, the "Neptune Effect."

As he pulled himself out of the water, David let himself smile. Only one event left to go, and then he could go home. To pack for the Convention.

Only one more race….

•••

Ana Juelz walked with the certainty of a queen, but with the slouch of a gangster and unhurried gait of a sloth. As she stepped into the airport in Montgomery Airport, she raised an eyebrow at the number of rushing travelers who swarmed about in clumps of brightly colored cloth.

She fingered the lighter in her pocket and smiled a little bit. If there was one word to describe her, she was badass. She was also gorgeous. In that funny contradictory way that traits seem to have, men flocked to her like flies to honey, but she drove them away like a bee. Her machete had been left behind in her car—it was too big and noticeable to be acceptable at an airport. Instead, she carried along a lighter, a small dagger, and her own eyes.

Like every other moderator on _The Hunger Games_ Unofficial Fan Forum, Ana had the gift of power sight. At least, that was what it was called officially. Leo, one of the co-heads, had coined the term, claiming that it held more authority than the infinitely simpler "lazar vision." It also held more mystery, which was something that Ana quite appreciated. With her baggy cargo pants and tight fitted silken camisole, her look was something entirely her own—a cross between "don't mess with me" and "ballet dancer".

Ana turned a corner and then stood still. The arrival gate was just opening, exhausted passengers just beginning to spill through. Ana hoped that Dally wouldn't be too tired—tired boys weren't any fun. She lightly touched the lighter once more, checking to make sure that it was still there.

A sudden weight on her shoulder made her turn around quickly. A group of guards, led by one very determined and stone-faced looking man, surrounded her. The man removed his hand from Ana's shoulder. He gestured towards Ana's hand, still in her pocket.

"I'm going to have to ask you to remove your hand and open it very slowly, Miss," the second guard said.

Ana felt a little flash of worry. A lighter was bad enough, but if she got caught with a dagger…

"Do you speak English, Miss?" The guard was miffed with her unresponsive state.

Ana peered into her opponent's eyes. They stood there, just staring each other down. Then the guard grabbed her roughly by the arm, and she dropped the lighter. It clattered to the ground in what seemed to be slow motion.

Two more guards moved in and seized Ana by either arm. She struggled, but they were very strong. Against her better judgment, she closed her eyes and focused her will, feeling heat gather in her eyes. Just as she was about to shoot a beam, a mellow voice, heavy with an English accent, stopped her.

"Is there a problem here, sirs?" Dally asked, his voice a lilting scale.

One guard turned to scowl at him. "This girl was found sneaking weaponry into this airport."

"Did she now?" Dally asked, his Irish accent more prominent now. "I have to disagree."

Ana shut her eyes and closed her ears, knowing what he was doing. Aside from the normal power sight gift given to the five moderators, each one had their own special talent. Her own was with swords and blades. Dally's came from his voice. By slipping something that Leo referred to as influence in as he spoke, he could deter or change the outcome of most situations.

"Did… she?" one of the guards asked, already dazed.

"I… think… so," the other one said, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"That's right," said Dally with a peaceful smile. "I'll take her to prison. You go back to your posts."

"Well, I guess so," they agreed reluctantly and turned to leave.

Dally grinned after them, concentrating so hard on their retreating figures that he didn't see Ana sneak up behind him until it was too late. _Crack!_ The arm struck him across the back of his head, causing him to drop to the floor. "Oww!" he whined, all traces of influence gone. "What'd you do that for?"

"Idiot," Ana said, but she was smiling. "Let's go. We've got to get ready for the others."

•••

Emma Mussy stiffened as the doorbell rang. She closed the book that she had been reading very gently, then stood up slowly. She wasn't always so opposed to visitors. Nay, it was visitors who came at _three in the morning_ that irked her pickle.

She placed the book down onto her cushy armchair, then straightened and came downstairs. Emma was a very paranoid person—almost as much as Abby. Now, she made sure to pick up a heavy bookend as she moved towards the latched and locked door. Her powers were such that they wouldn't help her at all against assailants, and her height—or lack thereof—struck fear into the heart of only small children.

Emma was a reader. Not someone who read a lot, although she did that too, but someone who could read emotions. She could always tell who would end up in a relationship, and with whom that person would be. It wasn't a very practical gift, but it was easy to disguise and hide.

She slowly unhooked the last door lock, then creaked it open a tad. "Hello?" she whispered shakily.

The door was thrown open, and Emma retreated several steps. She raised her arm to throw the bookend, but missed the shadowy figure that dominated the doorframe.

"Emma Mussy!" the figure cried. "Jesus Christ, are you trying to decapitate me?"

Emma blinked, and the figure moved into the light. "Ummm…ah…_Polly_?"

"That's my name, don't wear it out," Polly said with a grin. "Here's your bookend."

Emma took it and stood back up, all the while glaring at her friend. "Thanks a bunch, Polly," she muttered. "Thanks to you, I've been interrupted from reading my…. Hey, what are you doing here anyways?

Polly shrugged, taking an apple off of a nearby table and biting into it. "I was in the neighborhood and thought that I'd stop by."

"At three in the morning?"

"There's no time like the present," Polly said with a nod. Using the tip of her index finger, she drew a smiley face in the air. It burst into flames and burned for a moment, then ran out of fuel and disappeared.

Emma shook her head, and then reopened the door. "Out," she said, pointing to it.

Polly looked hurt. "Out? Really?" She sighed when Emma nodded. "Can I at least take this apple?"

Emma grabbed the apple from her hands and through it out onto the street. Polly dashed after it, stopping in the doorway to speak to Emma again. "See you at the Convention!" she shouted. Then she turned and flew out of the house.

"What was that about?" Emma mumbled, then turned and trudged back up the stairs.

•••

Leo Tate was the first one to arrive at the Convention, 3 days prior to its opening. He, as co-head of _The Hunger Games Trilogy_ Unofficial Fan Forums, was scheduled to open the convention with a speech about the Games. He had planned it all perfectly. He was the only one in Alabama today, so that he could start bringing in the cleaning service and the set-up crew. Then tomorrow, his co-head, Jennifer, and the rest of the moderators—Dally, David, Ana, Sara, and Sammy—would join him in planning the festivities. They would plan for a day, help set up the ballroom on the next, and then, the day after that, the Convention would begin.

"Are you Mr. Tate?" A nerdy looking bellboy asked him. Leo nodded. "Please follow me, Sir."

Leo followed him into an empty, somewhat dingy-looking ballroom. Its only decoration was an ugly, shattered disco ball that hung from the ceiling rather precariously.

"Here is the grand ballroom," the bellboy said with a grimace. "I'll leave you to your…ponderings." With that, he lifted the two heavy suitcases that Leo had packed and carried them out of the door.

Leo looked around and sighed. He suddenly wished that he had arrived earlier. There was so much work to be done on the room in order to make it habitable for the Convention….Holding two fingers up a little bit shakily, he summoned a pen and pad of paper. They flew quickly towards him, startling the hapless bellboy as he stepped out of the elevator.

"New…carpeting…," Leo mumbled as he wrote it down. "Good…decorations…."

He glanced up heavenward, at the uber-worn disco ball. A twisted smile wormed its way onto his mouth as he muttered, "But first…"

The disco ball exploded into flames.

•••

Jennifer Le straightened up in her swivel chair, preparing to be viewed by the cameras. As a last minute thought, she swept her long, dark hair into a ponytail and snapped it into place with the help of a rubber band. Then, without touching the keyboard once, she closed her eyes and focused her will towards making the computer do her bidding.

"You can open your eyes now," a high-pitched voice said with a light giggle. "You made it work."

Jen opened her eyes and smiled widely at the screen. Sitting in their respective rooms were Abby and Sammy, the former in a t-shirt and jeans, the latter in a polo shirt and shorts. They smiled at each other for a moment before launching into conversation.

"She was just like President Snow—"

"—_so _Creepy—"

"—get her last name?"

Abby shook her head, her brown curls flying in every direction. "She didn't give it," she said.

"How would you know? I was the one who talked to her," Sammy said with a giggle. Then she widened her big blue eyes as a new thought occurred to her. "Do you…do you think that she's going to be at the Convention?"

Jennifer shook her head. "Doubtful. She doesn't really like children, eh? What would she be doing at a teenager's convention?"

"Being mean?" Sam asked.

Abby smiled. "Yeah, no. You're right, Jen. For once. She won't be there."

"For once?" Jennifer echoed. "What do you mean, for once? Don't make me shoot my lazar vision at you!"

"You mean power sight," Sam corrected automatically.

"Oh, pfft. No one but Leo actually calls it that," Jen said with a dismissive wave of her arm.

Abby grinned. "You wouldn't shoot it at me, anyways. You'd break your computer, not me."

"Shuddup," Jen mumbled. "I'm tired. I just made my lunch using my psychic powers. That tends to drain people, y'know."

"I wouldn't know," Abby grumbled. "I'm not a moderator. The only power I've got is the power to be paranoid. And look cute."

"Paranoia?" Sammy raised an eyebrow. "That isn't your power. You've got extrasensory perception. That could be really powerful if you developed it. And look cute? Hahaha."

"Are you trying to tell me something, Little Miss Sing-Song?" Abby said, sending a glower directly to Samantha.

"Yes," she said earnestly and then both burst out laughing.

Jennifer leaned back in her chair, smiling as she watched the exchange. She felt like a lioness watching over her cubs; her feelings for the members of the forum were nothing short of love.

"Respect your elders," Sammy commanded.

"What? You're only older than me by, like, two months!"

"Yeah. Those two months were the best of my life."

"Well, you know what?"

"What?"

"Bye."

_I_Drink_With_A_Sippycup has logged off._

For a moment, Sammy looked shocked. Then she shook her head. "I'm going to go pack for the convention."

Jennifer grinned. "Have fun!"

"I can't wait to see everyone face to face! I'm leaving tomorrow for the moderator and administrator retreat."

"We are face to face. And I know, I'm going to that too."

"You know what I mean. Bye!"

_Sammybears104 has logged off._

•••

Sara Leslie was packed. Completely, one hundred percent packed. Almost.

_Where is that stupid hairbrush?_ She wondered, taking a look around her room. She patted down her neatly made bed, then opened and shut a drawer carefully. She could, of course, use her powers to locate it—but Sara was different. She didn't believe in using her powers for common problems. She believed that they were a gift, only to be used in dire emergencies.

_This is a dire emergency!_ she thought viciously. _I can't go to a convention full of my work associates looking like a cue tip!_

She glanced around the room as if looking to see if anyone was hiding then closed the door gently. She backed into a corner and closed her eyes. Holding her hands up in front of her, she began to search the room.

Just like a scent seer from Suzanne Collins' other story,_ The Underland Chronicles_, Sara could find and track any person using just smell. She took a deep whiff, then another. The whole room smelled like her, making it infinitely more difficult to track anything.

She narrowed it down, now searching for anything that smelled like her strawberry shampoo. There—a dark shape beneath her bed. Sara frowned and opened her eyes. What was her hairbrush doing there? She was such a neat, organized person; finding something out of place was like finding a needle in a haystack.

If Jennifer had been there, maybe she would have been able to tell. But it was Sara the scentseer, and she didn't recognize the beginning for what it was; the beginning.


	3. Chapter 2

~2~

Jennifer stepped off of the airplane and was almost automatically hit with a blast of warm air. "Why is there a heating vent?" she muttered to herself. "That's so stupid. It's warm enough here..." She did a double take when she realized that it was really just Alabama's humidity. Jen glanced around the crowded airport for a moment, barely catching a man clad in black near a column, but when she blinked, he was gone. She blinked again, and then rubbed at her eyes. It must have been her imagination, but something made her feel uneasy. Deciding not to bother with it, Jennifer looked around the area again, her eyes scanning for Leo - he was supposed to be meeting her here. No sign of Leo, still. She sighed, shifted her weight from foot to foot, and then went to collect her baggage. After collecting her things, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She glanced at it, saw it was Leo, and demanded, "Hello?"

"Hey, Jen." he said, completely calmly.

"Where are you?" she asked, annoyed.

"Look up."

Jen gazed upward, her expression annoyed. "What are you doing there?" she asked. He was waving frantically from the midst of a group of Japanese schoolgirls, all of whom seemed to be giggling at his muscles. "Leo!" yelled Jennifer angrily.

"It's not like you need help carrying those."

"In public, I do," she retorted. "What do you expect me to do, just pick them up with my mind and take them to the car? Yeah, real conspicuous."

Leo glanced nervously at the schoolgirls. "Um, coming!"

"Thank you," Jen said curtly, handing her bags to Leo, a smug smile on her face.

Leo gasped and groaned as he picked up Jennifer's bags. "The guns may look good, but they're absolutely useless.

Jennifer laughed and said, "Okay, let's go. I'm ready to help decorate that ball room."

•••

Polly's flight was, in short, crappy. She hated the turbulence, and the fat man next to her kept trying to read the manga she was reading over her shoulder. "Do you _mind_?" Polly asked for what must have been the third time.

Hey, who's that guy? Trying to kiss the kid?" asked the man.

"Soubi. Shuddup."

"But he's gay...?"

"What the hell? No he's not! Take it back, you meany!"

"...this makes no sense! This man should not be kissing a child," said the guy, stuffing travel peanuts in his mouth. Polly's stomach grumbled as she watched. The only thing that she's had to eat in 24 hours was the apple that Emma had so cruelly thrown onto the street. It had landed in a pile of dog poo, so she'd left it there.

Annoyed, she turned away, muttering, "Shuddup," again and carefully laid her arm across the armrest in such a way that it was difficult for the man to read over her shoulder anymore. Having been deterred from reading his seat partner's comic book, the fat man pulled out a subway sandwich and shoved it all into his mouth at once. She couldn't wait until this flight was over.

"Hey... can you pass me that barbecue sauce?" the man asked, leaning over to whisper in Polly's ear. His rolls of fat spilled over the seat separator. Polly regarded him with disgust.

"Barbecue sauce with a Subway meatball sub?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "Really?"

He nodded, his chewed meatball dripping from his mouth.

Suddenly - thank fully - the female voice of a flight attendant announced, "Please, fasten your seatbelts. We are going to land in five minutes."

•••

Ana and Dally drove to the airport to meet the others. They had been in Alabama for a few days already, seeing the sights together. "So, Dally," said Ana, smiling, "this was fun." She made a sharp turn with the wheel, pulling into an empty parking spot. Dally blushed like a schoolgirl, the way that only Ana could make him. He'd had the sex talk with practically every female on HGT, but only Ana had ever made him feel embarrassed about it.

"Haha, um...," he said, then continued, "er, let's go and pick up everybody, now...."

Ana gave a little laugh, but something about it seemed somewhat disappointed. "Sure, why not?" she asked, pushing down on the brakes and and opening her door.

Dally followed her out, and they hurried into the airport, shoving past many individuals to make it on time; because they'd been so carried away being together, they were late.

They rushed into the arrival gates, nearly running into Abby in their hurry. She stuck out her lip in a pout at them. "I've been waiting here _forever_, and this guy in a dark suit keeps looking at me weirdly."

Dally sighed, "Sorry, sorry," he said.

"Hahaha," giggled Abby, "your accent's so funny. Okay, let's go get everyone else." She tugged a bright blue suitcase behind her, leading the way.

"My. Accent. Isn't. Funny." Dally said, injecting every word with influence.

Abby looked at him wide eyed. "Of course it isn't. It's perfect and manly and wonderful..."

Hurriedly, the three walked towards the baggage claim center, where Emma, Sara, David, and Sammy were already waiting, impatient. "I told you I'd find them," muttered Abby.

"What? No you didn't," Ana argued. "You never said that!"

"You didn't," Dally said, backing her up.

"Psh," Abby retorted, "I was talking to everyone else...You're so full of yourselves, thinking automatically I was talking to you." She sighed.

"Psh," Abby retorted, "I was talking to everyone else...You're so full of yourselves, thinking automatically I was talking to you." She sighed.

"Well, you were muttering, so we kind of assumed." Ana said, rolling her eyes.

"I always mutter," muttered Abby. Louder, she said, "Hey, everyone. Dally and Ana are so nice that they've offered to drive us all over to the hotel to meet Jen and Leo."

"What?" Ana said frantically. "No, I didn't!"

"Well, someone has to," Sammy said, walking up to them with her baggage in her arms. "So let's go!" She shoved her suitcase into Dally's arms, the grabbed Allie's arm and skipped ahead.

Emma smiled sweetly at Dally. "Are you carrying the luggage? Well, thank you." She threw a large backpack onto the growing pile. She began to walk ahead, joining with Sammy and Abby.

David grinned and handed his duffel bag over to Dally. "Yeah man, thank you." He tossed a swim bag and scuba diving set into Dally's arms as well.

Unlike everyone else, Polly clutched her bag to herself, murmuring, "No one can get my bag. That fat man will never get my bag...." Behind her, a large man waved, sticking a cookie in his mouth. She looked at him and ran.

Emma, Sammy, and Allie led the strange procession as they skipped and bounced in the front. They were followed by Dally and Ana, the former's arms filled with luggage, and the latter's face covered by her hands. If you were to lean in closer, you would have heard her muttering, "My car. My precious, precious car." David and Polly lagged behind.

Soon, everyone was loaded in, double buckling in some areas, all the luggage tied up on the roof--Dally had asked the security if they had any ropes, and they'd quickly complied. The car faltered several times getting started, at which Ana groaned and cast a distraught look heavenwards. Finally, the engine roared to life, and the large group sped down the street. Looking out the window, Sara noticed several strange looks from others in their cars, gazing into Ana's. After about ten of these, Sara glared back, catching a tire on fire. Usually she wouldn't do that, but she hated the looks they were giving to her friends.

•••

Back at the hotel, Jennifer and Leo were setting up decorations.

"I like the Mocking Jay Disco Ball up _there_," Jen said, pointing her finger at it and levitating it to the ceiling.

"Okay," said Leo, "whatever.... Can we put the snacks near the door? That way, I don't have to get claustrophobic when all the chicks are getting punch."

"Is that some lame reference to your muscles?" Jen asked pityingly.

Leo nodded. "Did it work?" he asked eagerly.

"...not really," Jen said, sighing and laying a hand on his shoulder. "But that's okay. At least your kitty is cute."

"What kind of music will we use?" asked Leo, immediately changing the subject. He hated it when the kitty got the girls' attention more than his guns did. That's why he left Mr. Cuddles with the neighbor when he went on this trip, instead of bringing him.

Jennifer regarded him quizzically for a moment, then decided that she didn't really care. "Um… all kinds, I guess. Remember, Sammy is singing something at the opening."

"Really?" Leo asked. "Is that safe?"

"She's a great singer," assured Jen. "But remember, she can use her singing how she wants. If she wants us to fall asleep, then we will. If she wants us to dance, then we'll dance."

"Um, so, then, what do we do until the rest of the forum gets here?" Leo asked, more than a little bit awkwardly.

"Er...I dunno, actually," replied Jen. "We can crank call Scholastic, I guess. Or mess with cars that drive by outside by blowing up their tires...."

"Definitely crank call," Leo said with a grin. He pulled out his cell phone and began to dial.

He hit "speaker" after sending, and the two leaned their heads over the phone. It rang for a minute, and then they were put on hold for about ten.

"Hello, this is Scholastic," said a calm, cool voice. "My name is Carla. How may I assist you today?"

"...Carla?" asked Jen, her eyes widening.

"Yes, Carla," snapped the voice. "Now, what do you want?!"

"You suck!" said Leo, and then he pressed "end." "Jen?" Leo asked, raising an eyebrow. "You don't look so good. What's wrong with Carla?"

"Nothing," Jen asked, shaking her head. "It's no problem. I mean, if she's in New York, then she can't possibly come tonight..."

"Um, okay." Leo said.

"I hope," Jennifer said, looking up at the enormous Mocking Jay.

•••

"Hello, and welcome to the first ever Hunger Games Fan Convention!" Leo yelled into the microphone, running his finger through his newly-gelled brown hair. The crowd cheered back. So many people were there, but in the front was the group of the usual forum members. "I'm Leo Tate, co-head of THG Unofficial Fan Forums- are you ready to rock?"

"Yes!" yelled the crowd. "We love the Hunger Games!"

Leo cleared his throat, then shouted. "I said, ARE YOU READY TO ROCK???"

"YES!!!" The crowd cheered wildly.

"Well, too bad. You're at a Hunger Games convention, not an ACDC Concert."

Jennifer then walked up next to Leo. She said, "Hi, everyone. We have a special singer, before everything else!"

Sammy grinned and took a spot next to the two admins. "I'm going to be singing Katniss' Song," she said, tossing back her hair. She began to sing, slowly at first, then with more and more confidence. By the end of the song, most of the audience had tears in their eyes.

"Thank you," Sammy said, and then handed the microphone back to Leo.

"Now go party! Have fun! Drink punch! Fangirl out!" cried Leo, then stepped down from the podium. Immediately, the room was filled with the clamor of people meeting new friends, discussing the Hunger Games, and just hanging out and dancing.

Jennifer made sure to walk around the area, surveying and saying "Hello!" to every person that she saw. Though there were quite a few people that weren't from the forums, the majority was. Jennifer grinned and said, "Hi, Dee!" when she saw a familiar face.

"Hey, Jen!" Dee said with an easy grin. She pushed her dark bangs away from her face and took a sip of punch. "Wow, this is great punch," she remarked.

"I wouldn't drink it if I were you," Jen warned. "Leo was all over it today. It's probably infected with his cooties."

Leo took that moment to arrive, looking a little bit windswept. "Hey, girls," he said fliratiously. (Spelled wrong!)

Dee gave him a once over, then giggled and walked away.

"I have a cat! A kitten!" Leo called after her retreating figure. "He's cute!"

•••

Polly laughed lightly while talking to David, and then heard a slightly high and whiny voice call behind her. "Hey, manga-girl!" She whirled around and her eyes widened in horror.

"Oh, no, it's him...," she gasped. "David, I gotta go."

"What? Wait, what, Polly?" David asked, baffled. He turned around to face what she had been looking at in horror, and he grinned. "Oh, this is too good," he breathed.

"Oh, God, oh, God," muttered Polly, breathing rapidly. She dropped the punch cup she was holding and it splashed to the red and orange carpet.

The man waved with one hand while using the other beefy paw of his to cram three brownies into his black hole of a mouth.

David stepped forward, dragging Polly behind him. "Hey there," he said, pushing her forward. "I'm David. And I see that you already know Polly?"

The man nodded, and then drained what appeared to be a liter of punch. "Hey there, Polly-wolly manga-girl." he said. He reached out and extended his hand to Polly, then quickly withdrew it as the music changed. "I love this song!" he cried, as Hannah Montana's "Nobody's Perfect" blasted through the ballroom. Suddenly, the fat man, with one swift movement, had ripped his sweaty gray T-shirt over his head. Polly took one look at his hairy stomach and ran after seeing the image tattoo'd on it.

David whistled, looking at it. "Man, who did you get to do that? And how did you get it to look exactly like Katniss?"

The fat belly jiggling as he laughed, Fatman replied, "I dunno. I was drunk. Too many Subways...." David turned around upon hearing a retching noise and saw Polly leaning over the punch bowl.

David laughed and turned back around to the guy. "So, man," he said. "How'd you meet Polly?"

Without answering David's question, Fatman twirled his shirt in the air like a lasso. People were beginning to stare, some repulsed, some interested or laughing.

Then, he dropped to his side, then shifted his weight up to his head and right shoulder, lifting his legs high in the air. Polly looked up for a second, registered that Fatman was break dancing shirtless, and dunked her head back into the punch bowl.

•••

Abby was feeling paranoid. Very, very paranoid.

She hated being surrounded by complete strangers almost as much as she hated midnight creepers. Now, stuck in the dead center of a Hunger Games convention, she felt lost and alone. Not to mention overwhelmed. "How did I get myself into this?" she mumbled, covering her ears with her hands. "My god. It's so... loud!"

"Yeah, that's kind of the point," Sara said, materializing next to her from nowhere. "But I agree. It reeks, too. Of sweat... and of death."

"Gah!" Abby shrieked, jumping to her feet like a startled cat. "My god! Sara, what's your problem? You can't just sneak up on people like that!"

Sara looked annoyed. "Sorry, it's just... I get a bad feeling from this convention. And it smells so bad, you know?"

Abby knew. Well, not really, but she knew that as a Scent Seer, Sara would know. So she nodded her head and frowned. "Death? Really?"

"Yeah..." said Sara. "It's weird."

"Oh, man!" cried Abby suddenly. "What is that sound? It's not music...oh..." She stared out the doorway, into a dark corner of the hall. A figure stood there, clad in a dark coat and hat. "I know who that is," she whispered. "Carla."

Sara looked up at her, confused. "Huh?"

"Carla. She's the woman that Sammy... never mind. I'll tell you later." Abby bit her lip in worry. "Can you... can you find Jennifer for me?"

"Yeah, sure," said Sara, quickly running off into the crowd, her nose working to find Jennifer.

Moments later, she reappeared, dragging Jen by her arm. Jen looked bewildered. "What is it?" she asked Abby, as soon as she saw her.

"Carla," said Abby darkly, looking up to meet Jennifer's eyes. "Carla's right...over...there."

Jennifer snapped her head around, starting towards the place to which Abby was pointing. Then she stopped, confused. "There isn't anybody there..."

Abby looked again, and Jen was right. "I swear I saw her."

Jennifer looked grave. "I bet you did."

"So... do we shut down the convention?"

"No, of course not!" Sara piped up, speaking for the first time in a while.

"Whoever this Carla is, she can't be any good against you and your moderators. Don't worry, be happy!"

Ignoring Sara's upbeat tone, Jennifer said, "I'll go talk to Leo. Till then, keep on the look out."

Sara shook her head. "Want to tell me what's going on? Who's Carla?"

Abby sat down again, then began to tell Sara everything.

•••

Dally took a deep breath. Then another. Then another. If he lived through the next ten minutes, than he could live through anything.

Ana laughed lightly. "Seriously. I don't bite. Well, most people, anyway." She reached out and took his hands, and she led him onto the dance floor.

He kept taking deep breaths, but it didn't help stop his heart from beating a mile a minute. A slow song started, refrains that were familiar to his ears, but he couldn't focus, couldn't place the song. He wondered vaguely how he was supposed to dance to it if he couldn't even hear it over the beating of his own heart.

Ana saw how nervous he was and grinned. "You're serious?" she said. "Come on, Dally. Don't be anxious...it's just me...."

_Just her,_ Dally thought_. If only she could know what that meant to me... _She continued to smile softly. He didn't dare tell her this, but he thought that beneath it all, she wasn't hard and violent like she seemed - the machete being an example - but soft and sweet and vulnerable.

He wasn't aware of it, but Ana was thinking the same of him. She figured that, beneath it all, he was a lot more bad-ass than his Catholic-school-boy demeanor. She figured that, if she could press the right buttons, she could make him change.

Ana was a straightforward person. She leaned forward, closer and closer to Dally. "Hey, big boy," she said, a slight growl in her throat. "How're you doing up there?"

"Um...um..." Dally stuttered. "Er, depends how you're doing," he finally managed. He didn't know what to do. Kiss her? Dance more? Eat a breath mint?

Ana shook her head, a smirk on her lips. "You are so good, Dally." she said.

"And you're so bad," Dally said, his throat dry.

"Then I guess we're a perfect pair." Ana leaned in and kissed him. Her lips were dry and hot, like fire. Dally's own suddenly felt foreign to him.

Ana's hands balled into fists, pushing against Dally's chest as she kissed him harder. He was kissing back, emotions racing through his veins. He pushed her away, then gestured upstairs somewhat wildly. "Do you... er... want to, uh, get a room?"

Ana smiled demurely. "What do you think, Ireland?" She kissed him again, softly this time. "Let's go."

They grabbed hands and walked out into the hallway, so lost in each other that they completely missed the dark figure crouching in the shadows.

•••

Sam flipped her hair for the tenth time in the past five minutes. She already had him, hook, line, and sinker. All she'd had to do was laugh and smile and toss her head.

"You...want...dance?" asked the boy she was talking to.

"Sure!" she grinned. "You're no Peeta, but you'll fill the gap for now." She grabbed his hand and led him out onto the dance floor, close to where Ana and Dally had been previously. As the music began to play, she felt a pair of eyes watching her. She turned around, expecting to see Jennifer or maybe Abby watching. Instead, she saw a swish of what appeared to be a black trench coat as it disappeared into the crowd. Though when she blinked and looked again there was nothing, Sammy knew what was there. She knew evil when she saw it.

Sammy dropped the boy's hand, then turned and hopped away. "Stay here," she called over her shoulder. "Whatever I'm getting into," she muttered, "won't be good." Striding forward, she felt a hand on her back, halting her. Snapping her head around, she was relieved to see that it was Emma, looking concerned.

"Are you okay?" Emma asked. "You look like… well, a girl on a mission."

Sam straightened up and replied, "I am. I saw...I saw Carla." She shivered. "She's here, Emma."

"Carla? That creepy Scholastic lady?" Emma winced when Sam nodded. "Wait, how do you know what she looks like?"

"I don't," Sammy confessed. "But... you know how sometimes, you can just tell? Well, I can tell that was Carla."

"Um, okay," Emma relented. "So, what're you doing? Tracking her down? That might not be very safe, you know." She looked earnest.

Sammy laughed. "I'm a moderator, Emma. I'm safer than you are."

"Are you sure?" demanded Emma. "Well, you're still in danger." She sighed, her voice now sarcastic. "Well, that makes me feel safe."

"Haha, good," retorted Sammy.

"Fine. Let's go find Jennifer."

The two hurried around and around the ballroom, hoping to run into the administrator. They saw a fat man, lying in a pool of sweat, in a corner, and noticed that the punch bowl was gone, but there wasn't a sign of Jennifer anywhere.

Finally, they heard a relieved call: "There you are!"

Jennifer hurried towards them, still looking worried. "I'm ending the convention now," she informed them "You were right, Sammy. Carla is here."

"We know," Emma said with a sigh. "We were just trying to find you."

"Look," Sam said, pointing at something. "She has minions. In suits!"

Jennifer and Emma turned around, just in time to see Carla and two men in suits stalking towards them. "Run!" Emma shouted.

They scattered, each in a different direction. Jennifer jumped onto the stage and grabbed the microphone. "Um, er, yeah, well... Due to technical difficulties, we won't be continuing the convention. Please join us again next year!"

Two thousand confused faces stared up at her.

"Do you think that I'm kidding?" Jen shouted. "Go! Now!"

They continued to stare.

"What're you waiting for?" she demanded, her voice hysterical.

"Get out! Get out!"

Polly, sensing her need, sent a flare of smoke up towards the ceiling. The sprinkler system went on, soaking all of the guests. Screaming, they hurried out. Outside, policemen and fire trucks were already pulling in. Reading thoughts was hectic, but Jennifer managed to find the whole gang through the din.

"There's something wrong," she said, her voice hushed. "We all have to get home, now. Carla found us."

"Where are Dally and Ana?" Abby asked, looking frightened.

Jennifer shut her eyes for a minute, and then opened them, repulsed.

"You don't want to know," she said. "But trust me, they're fine."

"Let's leave them here," Leo said, his deep voice resounding through the smoke. "We can call them later. They'll be safe."

Abby regarded Jen and Leo carefully for a moment then decided to not bother trying to figure it out.

"Come on, let's go," Jennifer said, pulling on Dee and Sam's arms. "We'll all fly back to California together."

"Derek?" asked Abby. "You'll swim me home? And Polly, too?"

"Yeah, I'll swim back," David said, smiling again. "I love swimming." He continued, "Anyone else need a ride? We'll find a parasail and I'll swim us back..."

"Then I can take Emma back," said Leo.

"Sara, will you be able to get a ride by yourself?" Sammy asked, concerned.

"Yeah," Sara said. "I'm good." She smiled reassuringly.

"Then come on, let's leave!" Jennifer said again, fiercely overprotective of her Internet family.

Everyone headed off in his or her own directions. Somewhere still inside the ballroom, Fatman's Katniss tattoo was melting away with his sweat.


	4. Chapter 3

~3~

Jennifer sat on her comfortable blue swivel chair, staring thoughtfully out the window into the dark night. Crickets chirped quietly outside in the bushes. There was one streetlamp a ways down the road, barely illuminating five feet around itself. It was nice to be home again after the crazy Convention.

Her computer's speaker beeped slightly, and she whipped her head towards the screen, her hair flipping over one shoulder. She laughed quietly then typed something in to the Yahoo! Instant Messenger window to Sam and Abby.

After reading Abby's next message, Jennifer quickly pulled up the Internet server she used and typed in and hit "enter." Sighing, Jennifer quickly banned a noob who was posting something about cheese in the "Movie?" thread.

Then she typed something else into the Yahoo! Instant Messenger window, about how she'd taken care of it and was now going to review something that Sam had written and posted on .

A slow creak outside the window caught her attention. She glanced outside. Jennifer typed a quick, "brb" into the messenger and stood up, striding the few short steps to the window. A car was slowly pulling around the street, stopping at each mailbox.

That was illegal to touch others' mailboxes. Idiot, he ought to know that.

Jennifer was an administrator of a big website. She knew how to control things. She gazed out at the car, her brown eyes hard. Still concentrating, she curled her fingers into hard fists at her sides. The plastic headlights burst spontaneously into small, sharp shards lying scattered in the road and the grass. Sparks rained downward but were immediately put out upon hitting the asphalt.

She laughed to herself and began to turn back to her computer. The owner of that car shouldn't be doing whatever they were doing. That was a lesson they should learn. Even though Jennifer was one of the nicest people on the planet, nice to everyone and anyone and an absolute darling, she still thought they deserved that. What they were doing wasn't their business to do.

She turned away and wrote "back =]" into the computer. Then she heard another loud noise outside. "nvm," she typed. "I have to go check something out."

Quickly, she climbed from her window. Now the car was outside in front of her house. They shouldn't be doing that.

"Hey!" she yelled. "Stop! This is illegal; I could report you." She wondered though, how the car was already fixed. She stared, surprised.

There was a slight pressure on Jennifer's shoulder. Light as a feather but firm as a vice. She whirled around, her eyes still hard. A gasp caught in her throat, and the girl's eyes were their usual softness again. Then they grew fearful. Jennifer was an administrator; she never got scared.

But the man in the close-fitting black leather jacket, with dark, loose pants, and sneakers was glaring back at her. His eyes were black holes, harder than stone. She tried to break the gaze, but she was unable to. Finally, Jennifer cast her eyes downward and said, "Who are you?"

The man was unresponsive. Jennifer twisted her shoulder to try to get away from the uncomfortable hold, but his fingers dug in deeper. She barely felt the pain but instead anger was swelling up in her.

"Let go," Jennifer demanded softly. "Let go or you'll be sorry. I don't like to hurt people." She turned her head slightly and glowered at the hand, willing for each finger to curl up on itself. She didn't want them to shatter like the headlights; a shattered hand would be absolutely disgusting.

She looked up, surprised, when the man started shaking. What? What—he was laughing! "Let go!" she yelped, using her hands to pry at the fingers that didn't budge.

"What are you doing?" Jennifer glared. "Where are you taking me? What! No!"

For a reason she couldn't fathom, Jennifer was led to the back door. She didn't know why this was happening, and she didn't know why she was_ letting _it happen. She was so in control! "No!" she said again.

The remains of the headlights had already been cleaned up, she saw with shock. The back door was opened by her capturer, and she was shoved roughly in. It was gated between the back and front, like a police car, and, as she could soon tell, it was locked from the outside.

Jennifer sighed heavily, set her jaw in a line, and looked out the window to her house, where the screen had been slipped back into place already. It all looked perfect, as if there was never a crime. Of course, all kidnappers made it look like that. So that she would never be found again.

. . .

"His capacious manhood," typed Sam, laughing to herself. She got "LOL" as her reply from Abby and "Gale, the HG resident rapist," from Jennifer. Abby popped something in about a spambot on the Hunger Games Trilogy forums so Sam or Jennifer could take care of it; Jennifer, being an admin, Sam being a moderator.

Sam grinned the next minute, pleased that Jennifer was going to review something of hers. A couple moments later, Jennifer typed up "brb" so Sam wrote, "How's that story coming?"

Abby wrote, "Pretty well. But our plotline is kind of crazy." Sam laughed and typed up how she completely agreed. Jennifer came back quickly, but then said she had to check something out.

"What's she looking at?" asked Abby. "Is there a creeper? O_O"

"You're paranoid," Sam typed back, "just paranoid. Jen's fine." She pulled up another tab on her Mac computer and began to write another chapter for the story.

There was a tapping sound at the window, and she jumped up. "Be right back," she wrote and hurried over. She thrust it open, not really realizing what she was getting into. She was safe; she lived in a rich area. Security was good.

But there was nothing out there. "Wha—?" she said, mystified. There had been something tapping there, she knew.

Out of the dark below the window, a gloved hand shot up and grabbed her wrist. "Hey!" she cried loudly. The hand tugged hard and she came tumbling through the window, crashing into the bushes below. "Hey, let go of me!" screamed Sam. "LET GO, LET GO!" Making noise would get this guy caught.

Another hand gripped itself across her face, successfully covering her mouth, but also her nose. What was wrong with this man? Why wasn't he letting her breathe? She immediately began to beat at the hands with her fists, thrashing, and successfully kicking him where it hurt very badly for a guy.

While he was stunned, she glared at a car parked in front of her house. Staring at the black hood, her eyes becoming a shade lighter, continually growing warmer as she concentrated. Then she laughed, successful, as the front of the car burst into flame. The hands grabbed her and piercing black eyes bore into hers questioningly. She shrugged. "I used my mod-lazar powers," she muttered in answer. "It's no big deal, I blow up engines all the time…"

The man grabbed her roughly again and put a hand over her mouth and nose. Just like before.

But the arms were strong, and they were carrying her to a car that was parked in front of her car. Her lungs were screaming painfully for air, and she was tossed carelessly into the backseat. Gasping for air, Sam tried to get out, be she was caged into the back like a criminal, and the doors were locked with a key. It wasn't quite possible to escape, now.

. . .

Abby sighed, staring at her laptop screen for five minutes before typing in, "Thanks for deserting me, guys," and standing up to look out her window, which overlooked her street. It was so late, already, almost three in the morning.

She glanced out her window and noticed a car, pulling slowly out in front of her neighbor's house. Who was in it? she wondered. Oh, no, what if it was a creeper and he was going to kill her? She locked her window.

The front passenger door swiftly came open, and then a distant-looking figure duck-rolled out, the door shutting almost silently behind it. The figure sprinted forward. The silhouette was lost in the shadows of her neighbor's house. It looked as if maybe it had gone to the front porch.

It was so late! This person had to be a creeper. No one would be outside or awake. Well, she was awake, but she had a reason. And she wasn't the one outside in a car rolling down a small street.

The car had pulled forward so that it was on brake in front of her house. Abby looked at her window again to reassure herself. It was locked, it was locked.

Gazing down the street, she noticed that the lights weren't on at her neighbor's house, not even just the porch lights. _Oh, right_, she recalled, _they're on vacation in Arizona_. _The parents and the two kids._ But that didn't make sense. Because the figure had headed to _that_ house.

She'd attempted to assume that the dark figure from the car was visiting or dropping something off, but it couldn't be doing that if nobody was there. The car's headlights still glared forward, white and unwavering. A sick urge to run gripped Abby's nerves with an icy cold feeling.

She turned away, though, and suddenly, there was a hand around her mouth. Her eyes widened, and she put a hand to the glove that kept her lips shut. Black leather, even though her eyes were closed. The low, even breathing suggested that this was a man.

Abby was swiftly dragged outside.

"You can't do this!" she shrieked. "No, no!"

Carefully, she listened. She couldn't hear anybody that was awake in the whole neighborhood. No one would wake up, either, she could tell. She listened to the man breathe quietly as he began to shove her into the backseat of the dark car, locking it from the outside. It felt like a police car. Abby was being kidnapped.

Paranoia was a funny thing. All of her worries had to come true.

. . .

Something was going on. Sara could tell that much. Outside her house, three cars were rolling by at a fast speed, blurring like foliage on a highway. Whatever was happening, it wasn't right. She glared out at them, her eyes growing warm. The taillight of the back car burst into flame.

It would hold them for a short time, she decided, grabbing her purse and sweeping her car keys up from next to it. Racing outside, Sara stepping into her car and sped after the others, which were already heading away. How had the flame been put out?

With one hand, Sara hit a speed dial on her cell phone. "Dally?" she said. "Call the gang. I need reinforcements."

"What's going on?" Dally asked, his voice tired. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Sevenish?" said Sara.

"I enjoy sleeping late," Dally informed her, sighing. "Okay, I will. What's going on?"

"I don't really know. There's some super-fast cars, and I laser'd the taillight, but it's already been fixed!" Sara replied. "I'm following them now, all three of them. My car must be doing at least eighty right now."

"Oh, all right," said Dally. "I'll call them all now."

"Thanks," Sara said, gratefully. "Bye." She hit "end" and dropped her phone on the seat next to her, accelerating on the gas.

. . .

Dally sat in bed, still rubbing his eyes. "Who to call?" he muttered to himself. "Forums." He grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and dialed.

"Hello? Ana?" he asked.

"Your accent's so sexy," she laughed. "It's late. What's up?"

"I don't know, Sara called and said something was up. She's chasing down some cars. These cars are odd, too, because she laser'd them, but immediately the taillight she put out was fixed."

"Evil," Ana muttered. "I better go and sharpen my machete…"

"All right," Dally said. "You do that. Where's a good rendezvous point?"

"It's too late to think," complained Ana. "I don't know. Call me later." Dally heard a click on the other end of the line and sighed, calling Jennifer next. She'd know a good place. Oddly, she didn't pick up. He sighed, ended that call, and then dialed up Polly.

"What." He sighed. At least she had picked up.

"There's something wrong," Dally explained the whole thing.

"Okay, bye," said Polly tiredly.

"Don't you care?"

"I'm watching Loveless. Soubi's trying to make out with poor—"

"Never mind, then. Goodbye." Dally clicked the phone shut then called Emma.

"Hi," she said, her voice upbeat.

"Ah, good," Dally said. He explained the predicament to her, and she sighed sympathetically.

"So what is going on with that?"

"We need a meeting place. I'm calling David next."

"Okay, um, I don't know…it'll be hard to get to."

"Not really. I'm calling David, next, and he can get everyone there."

"Then what's the point of having a rendezvous point if he's just getting everyone?"

"Oh…right…," said Dally. "In that case, I'll call him now…."

A minute later, Dally said, "David! We need you to swim and get everyone!"

"Why?"

"I'll tell you when you come get me, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever. But it's late, and I have swim tomorrow." He groaned.

"I don't know if you'll be able to make it to swim," Dally said, annoyed. "Just come on."

. . .

Ana sighed. She hadn't been able to sleep at all since that phone call, so she was in the basement, sharpening her machete. If what Dally had said meant anything at all, then she'd need it. Badly. And Sara and everyone else would, too.

A bare bulb hung above her, the faint light illuminating the small area. "Okay, good," Ana said, grinning to herself. "Perfectly sharp."

A knock at the basement window above her startled her, and she let out a gasp. "What the hell!" she said.

Going over to the window, her machete raised above her head, Ana opened the window. "Oh, David, Dally," she said, half-relieved, half annoyed that she didn't get to use her machete. "This is what we're doing, then?"

She crawled out through the window, tossing her machete out first. "Yes," said Dally. She hopped onto the rubber water raft that was tied to David's ankle with a piece of long rope.

"So this is how we're getting around?" she said.

"Yep," said David. Then he jumped into the air and began to swim. "I'm kind of tired. Everyone else lives close, right?"

"Yes, sure," lied Dally. "Not too many states away, anyhow."

. . .

"Aw," said Polly, staring at her laptop screen. "That sucks." She sighed and changed windows. A bang on her window made her gasp, and she almost jumped out of her chair.

"Oh my God!" she yelled. "What's wrong with you guys!"

"Sorry," called a voice.

"Haha," she began to laugh. "Your accent's so funny, Dally."

"Shut up, please," Dally said, "and open the window. We have to go find Sara."

Polly sighed again, opened her window, and climbed out into a large raft. "Um…" she said. "What's up with this?" She sat down and lounged comfortably, her hands gripping the handles.

"It is our means of transportation," explained Dally. "See, David is swimming us around."

"…you're weird," said Polly. She shrugged. "Okay, go, then."

. . .

"Leo!" called David, treading air outside a front door. He pounded on the knocker then repeatedly pressed the doorbell.

After about a minute, the door opened. David was in the process of pounding on it with his fist, and he accidentally hit Leo in the nose.

"Do that again and you lose your mod-power," threatened Leo. "What…what's going on?"

"Hm?" asked Polly. She'd not often spoken to Leo, never even really thought about it, but here she was in a raft that was floating on air. Tonight was a night to take chances.

"No one alerted me about all…this," Leo said, annoyed.

"Oh, I thought I'd forgotten someone," laughed Dally.

"Yeah, thanks," muttered Leo. "…so…?"

"Get in the raft and we'll say on the way," Polly interjected. "We don't have that much time. Sara could run out of gas soon."

Leo stepped into the raft and listened to the confusing excerpts of what was happening while everyone interrupted one another, trying to get their point across.

. . .

"Emma!" she heard her name being called. The girl looked up from her copy of Catching Fire, which she'd only just gotten back from her friend, and gazed out her window.

"What are you doing here? Oh, that's why you called David!" she laughed. "Okay, justa second." She pushed her window open and clambered out. "Rubber raft?" she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah," David replied quickly, already tired of that question. "To Sam's house next?"

"Yes," ordered Dally. "While we're there, we'll stop at Jennifer's, too."

"What about Abby?" asked Polly.

"We stopped at her house on the way here, but she didn't seem to be home."

"Oh, okay. Maybe we'll see here somewhere soon."

. . .

The house was quiet; no matter how many times that they pounded on Sam's window, no one came to it. Finally, a light came on in the hallway, and an angry-looking woman came to the window. "Hey!" she yelled. "Who are you kids?!" Everyone's eyes widened. "What're you doing!?"

Immediately, David began to swim freestyle as fast as possible, away from the house. After a few minutes, he concluded, "Well, that didn't work…let's go and get Jennifer."

That proved to be futile, too. No one came to the window.

"Let's just go, before my machete gets dull," said Ana, bored. "I'm about to pop this thing." She gestured lightly to the raft and made a poking motion with her machete.

"Please, don't, for me?" Dally said.

"Oh, okay," Ana said, still bored. "Whatever."

"Okay, to Canada," muttered David. He began to swim again, soaring higher upwards.

Then they flew northward to Canada.


	5. Chapter 4

_**We don't own The Hunger Games. If I did, Peeta would be engaged to a girl named Sanna. And Gale would be a rapist. But I don't, unfortunately, so I'm stuck writing fanfiction.**_

~4~

The air grew colder as they neared the American-Canadian border. Up four hundred feet in the air, Polly shivered from the cold and fear. She had no idea what she was getting into- none of them did. All they knew was that Sara had seen something suspicious, and they were all flying across the continent to check it out.

"I hope we don't need our passports," she mumbled, half jokingly, to Leo. He smiled in return.

"We're approaching the border," Emma said, consulting a pocket map. "We should be there in three…two…one…"

"I can see it!" Ana cried, leaning over the side of the raft. "Look! It's Niagara Falls!"

"Niagara Falls?" Dally asked. "Oh, wow! Just look at them!"

The motley crew ducked their heads down, watching as the falls rose up beneath them.

"It's so pretty!" Polly cried, amazed. "Just look at it! It's astounding!" She leaned a little bit too far over, slipping against the raft's rubber side. "Oops!"

Leo grabbed her ankle, then pulled her back over. "I wonder where Jody is," he said, a little bit too casually. The other travelers exchanged smirks and glances.

"You know," Emma said, a smirk splayed across her face, "You could just… I don't know…"

"Tell her how you feel, ask her to dance, invite her to your room," Ana finished. "Come on, it's not rocket science." This being said, she took Dally's hand in hers, causing him to flush a deep red.

"Er, um, ooh…," he stuttered.

Ana sighed. "Oh, Dally. And I thought we were over this little problem."

"Mooooooooo!"

"What's going on up there?" David yelled from somewhere far below. "Is everyone okay?"

"We're peachy-keen!" Polly yelled.

"Good. We're getting near Toronto, so we have to land and find Sara. We're going to start descending in about five minutes."

"You know, I don't really understand David's powers," Ana confessed. "I mean, I understand that he can hold his breath indefinitely. It makes sense, because he was a swimmer before. But flying? Really?"

"Don't question, just accept." Leo said. "The Hunger Games Powers work in mysterious ways."

"Yeah, I got that. As soon as you join the forum and take the loyalty pledge, the power of Suzanne Collins will find if you are worthy. If you are, then she uses her Goddess Gifts to grant you a power in helping alert the world about _The Hunger Games_. They match our personalities to the best of their abilities. And when your rank increases, you get new powers. Like the moderators and their laser eyes—"

"You mean Power Sight," Leo corrected.

"Yeah, whatever. And like the administrators and their mind reading."

"It's not exactly mind reading," Leo protested. "We haven't gotten that far yet. We still have a while to progress before we can read thoughts like that."

"We're descending now," David called up from below. "Look out for Sara's car."

The five voyagers and their floating friend all stopped talking and began to scour the landscape for any sight of their other member. "Look!" Emma cried, pointing downwards. "There are three cars, looking like they're doing over one hundred! And that car there, that could be Sara's!"

"It's as good a chance as any," Dally said, and then motioned for David to descend. He did so, and the raft looped towards the ground.

•••

Sara gritted her teeth and floored the pedals yet again, pushing the car to reach 98 miles per hour. She kept an eye on her gas readings—she'd been driving at around eighty for four hours, and she was nearly out of gas. What little she did have left was slowly seeping out through a hole in her gas tank. They'd begun to shoot at her ever since they'd realized she was tailing them. Though she'd avoided most of the bullets, her taillight was broken now, and her engine was leaking potentially lethal oil. This only increased her suspicion that they were transporting something dangerous and possibly illegal.

She veered off yet again as a black clad arm extended out of the window, and, holding a Walther PPK, began to shoot at her.

"Crap, oh, crap," she muttered. Risking a glance at the gas meter, she saw she had less than one space left between notches.

The next event that happened seemed to be in slow motion. That glance she took was more of a risk than she had realized. The crack of breaking glass alerted her, and she let go of the wheel, her car spinning in a random direction.

More than one bullet followed, and they penetrated the glass. Shattered fragments of what used to be her windshield, her passenger window, blew onto her skin, sharp spikes landing burying in her arms, face, any visible part of skin. Spots of blood appeared on her complexion but she could do nothing. Not now.

A particularly large shard of windshield was roughly thrown into her side, piercing through her T-shirt and into her stomach. She let out a horrible, pained sound.

"CRA—," shouted Sara but was cut off. One bullet landed too close for comfort. Lodging itself right in the cushion next to her head.

She gripped the wheel again, steering crazily and shakily. She could literally see the gas meter moving, ticking away the seconds she had until she lost them….

"Sara!" she heard a faint voice call. Then again, and again. More than one voice.

The car in front kept shooting. The hand never let go of that gun, not to take a break or to reload it. Shouldn't it have run out of bullets by now?

Three seconds, she knew. Two…one….

The car didn't stop for what seemed like forever after the tank ran out. Momentum kept it going for the time it did.

Then it stopped, skidding to the side. She wasted no time leaping from the broken window of the passenger's seat.

Sara rolled downwards through dry, yellow grass. "Crap, crap," she wailed.

Then she heard the shout, "Sara! We can't leave her!"

Another, "We have to, to keep up with those cars!"

"But Sara—!"

Sara lay in the grass, glass burying ever deeper into her skin. She knew it'd be better for them to chase the cars. They had to. Something was up. Her friends had to help.

So Sara didn't move. She just stared up at the stars until she blacked out from loss of blood.

•••

"Sara!" cried Polly again. "Come on! She's my Internet-daughter! We've got to help her, David, stop the raft!"

"No!" said Leo so fiercely that Polly drew back and stopped hyperventilating for a moment. This small period of time calmed her down, and she just sat, her eyes closed, until he spoke again. "I have a feeling…what's in these cars."

"What?" said Ana, trying to appear still bored though she was slightly interested. "Is it bad enough that I can use my machete on these asses?"

"More than your machete," Leo said grimly. "I think…I think that they…." He stopped, gritting his teeth together, trying to remain free of emotion.

"What?" pressed Ana. "Seriously, what's up?"

"I don't know who the hell they are, but I know why we couldn't find Jennifer. And Sammy and Abby, too," he added sheepishly.

"Oh, duh," said Ana. "These people kidnapped them."

"What?" asked Leo. "No, I didn't think they were kidnapped. But remember that movie, Taken? Maybe they were _sold_—"

"Shut up, Leo," demanded Dally. "Ana's right. She always is. They were kidnapped by these cars."

"Cars?" laughed Emma, despite the dark mood. "You mean people in the cars, Dally."

He glared at her, unspeaking, for several minutes. Then she said, "Sorry…."

"I'm not mad," he said lightly. "But…they've been kidnapped."

Polly looked vacantly over the edge of the raft. "David's closing in."

"Oh?" said Ana. "Okay…why?"

"Dunno," replied Polly. "DAVID, WHAT'RE YOU DOING?!"

He looked up and shrugged helplessly. "He doesn't know, either, I guess," she said, sighing. "But what else is new?"

•••

It was dark, so dark. Why was she still here? Why wouldn't they let her out?

Jen had been screaming for hours.

Pounding on the dark wires that separated her from her kidnapper, she yelled, "Let me out!" for the millionth time.

Again, neither man in front did what she asked.

All she knew was that something was going on. Jennifer couldn't see much out back, but the booming of guns, the shattering of glass, the deafening yells of rage were something she could hear.

Whatever was happening wasn't good.

"Come on!" she shouted. "Let me out!"

Her eyes could not blow these people or their car—at least, the inside—up. She had tried every minute for hours but to no avail. She hated feeling this powerless. She'd been an admin for the longest time, and so she'd had these powers since Leo had granted them to her with the red lettering that spelt out her screen name.

But now, here she was, unable to do a thing.

It was a horrible feeling not being in control.

So Jen, for the first time in hours, tried to blow up the steering wheel. Nothing happened. She attempted moving it, too, with the telekinesis, but it didn't budge.

So she leaned forward and began to bang on the cage-like wall again and holler her head off.

•••

Though she was in the middle car, Abby knew exactly what was going on. It was, after all, one of her worst nightmares. Her paranoia was almost like seeing the future.

A gun was being fired from the car behind hers. Not too long ago, the men in her car had been firing back, too, but never the car in the front. Maybe because it was too far away to hit the car that had been following these three.

Why was the gun still being fired, though? That pursuing car had rolled away at least ten or twenty minutes ago. Abby groaned. She knew that car had been her hope. She'd known who was in it.

It'd been Sara. Abby had seen. Watched her car crash, watched Sara practically stumble down the hill, having tripped over the gate that guarded the highway from the long downward wind. This car had kept right on moving, but Abby had an awful feeling that Sara wasn't coming back up.

•••

Samantha pressed her hand up against the window, and then spread her fingers out. She peered out through the tinted glass, trying to make out the smoking remains of what had been Sara's car. She watched, hoping against hope that any moment now Sara would stand up and stagger away. But the odds of that happening were not in her favor.

After Sara had staggered away, clutching her side and gasping for breath, she had fallen over the chain link fence. At first, Sammy had been confused as to why they had kept shooting at Sara's car. After all, Sara was most likely dead. Then the car, dripping with spilled gasoline, had burst into flames, and everything had made sense. A conflagration would wipe away any suspicion of foul play, any traces of Sara's blood that might remain on the car. If anyone came to investigate, they wouldn't link the explosion to murder, let alone to the three black cars that were currently carrying them away.

Sammy turned away from the window and faced the front seat again, or rather the bars that separated her from the front seat. She focused her eyes, letting them grow soft and warm as the Power Sight took over. She took a deep breath, and then aimed at the dashboard.

_Pfft!_ The bars seemed to give off some kind of force field, protecting her kidnappers from any of her powers. Instead of breaking the car as she wished it to, the beam rebounded and hit her arm. She let out a little screech, and the men in front all turned to look at her. She slid down in her seat in embarrassment, all the while glaring at them reproachfully. "What?" she asked. "It hurt. Want me to prove it to you?"

One of the men turned around, pulling a gun from his holster. He showed it to her, making his meaning clear. _Make noise, and we kill you._

"Okay, okay," she mumbled, then slid down farther into the seat.

•••

Dionne Trimmer stood at the head of the ship as it chugged its way through the lake below Niagara Falls. All around her, tourists were chattering and taking pictures of the glorious falls. Dee, however, was staring up at the sky with a slightly worried expression on her face.

She'd been trapped on this dingy, sailing around the falls for the last three hours. And, in that time period, she'd seen something extremely disturbing. Looking up at the sky, she could have been sure that she'd seen an enormous flying raft, towed by a sixteen-year-old boy. To anyone else, this would have been disregarded and assumed to be hallucinations or insanity. To Dee, however, it was just a semi-normal part of life.

Semi-normal, because while everyone had their own special powers, most of them wouldn't dare to use them in broad daylight. In order for one of the _moderators_ to do that, something must have been very wrong. And so Dee was very worried.

She turned to her mother, busy snapping pictures of Niagara, and said, "Hey, mom, when are we going to harbor?"

"Not too much longer now, darling." Her mother responded.

Dee looked back up at the sky. She could wait… but could her friends?

•••

Leo Tate gripped the edge of the raft, silently urging it to fly faster. "Come on, David," he muttered, knuckles turning white. "Hurry… Catch those cars…"

David was about level with the roofs of the cars now. He focused on it, letting his eyes grow warm the same way that Sammy had. He fired a beam of light straight onto the roof of the car, only to have it bounce off of the shiny black aluminum. "What the hell?" he shouted over his shoulder. "My laser won't go through it!"

"Lemme try," Ana said, judging the distance to the middle car. She squeezed Dally's hand then let go. Grabbing the a piece of the rope that tied the raft to David, she slid down and landed on the roof of the car. She pulled out her machete and drove it into the dead center of the roof.

Nothing happened, not even a scratch. Ana stood up, looking shocked. Then, without a warning, the first car disappeared. Ana looked straight ahead but saw nothing, particularly nothing that would make the car just vanish like that. She ruminated for less than twenty seconds before she felt her body slam into an invisible brick wall. She was thrown back and landed, crumpled, on the road.

"Ana!" Dally yelled, face draining of all color. "Everyone, stop!"

David stopped flying suddenly, landing on the road. The raft thudded to the ground and jostled all of the passengers aboard. Dally leaped out with surprising agility and rushed to Ana's side. She slowly pushed herself up and let out a groan.

"Ouch, my head!" she grumbled. Dally smiled, pulled her up, then planted a kiss on her lips.

"Are you okay, Ana?" Polly asked, wide-eyed.

She nodded. "I'm fine, now."

"Hey, guys," Emma said, speaking up for the first time in forever. "You should see this… or not."

"What?" Leo asked, sounding very confused as he joined her at the site where the three cars had disappeared.

"Feel here," she instructed, pushing her palm up in the air mime-style. "It's like a wall, only invisible."

"You're right," Leo agreed. "There's something here."

"Not only that," Polly said. "The cars- they had the letters "S C" on the them."

"S and C?" Dally repeated. "Like… the first two letters of Scholastic?"

"Or S and C… like Suzanne Collins," Ana muttered.

"Whatever it is doesn't matter," Leo said, raising his voice. "Our friends are in… there. We need to get in there and free them!"

"But how?" Polly asked. "And what about Sara?"

Leo gritted his teeth. "David, you and Polly go search for Sara. Get her to a hospital- then go back to Jennifer, Sammy, and Abby's houses and make sure that they're really gone. Dally, Ana, you'll stay here and try to find an entrance from this side. Watch to see if any cars go in or out- and try to figure out who it is. Emma, you and I are going to feel our way around the side of the wall and see if we can find any other entrances."

"Let's go find Sara, David!" Polly said, her mouth set in a straight line.

"Let's go guard the entrance, Ana." Dally said, very determined. "We're going to find out who S C is, or what it stands for."

"Let's go find another entrance, Emma." Leo said. "For Jennifer… and the others."

•••

Mushrooms. Mushrooms and spiders. Mushrooms and spiders and darkness.

Those were the only things that the cell that Jennifer was thrown into contained. After she was pulled roughly out of the back of the car, she was blindfolded and marched into a building. Down, down a stairway that seemed to stretch on forever she was taken. After the staircase, something seemed to change. The air seemed to grow fresher, even though they were miles underground. From behind her blindfold it seemed like bright lights were flashing, and the air smelled faintly like candy.

She was taken into a large building that seemed to be _underground_, and then was put into an elevator that took her even farther. By the time that they removed the blindfold, it was too dark to see anything anyways. They shoved her into a dark cell, the bottom covered in slimy mushrooms and crawling with spiders.

She retreated as far into a corner as possible, and then shut her mouth tightly. They may have been controlling her, but that didn't mean that she would make it easy for them.

•••

_**Well, I hope that you've enjoyed reading the first three chapters of The Underland Games! What does SC stand for? Where are Sammy and Abby? Is Sara still alive? Will Leo and Jennifer ever be together?**_

_**For the answer to all of this and more, come back tomorrow night for the next installment of The Underland Games!**_


	6. Chapter 5

**Sorry, guys, but I still don't own The Hunger Games. Unfortunately, the judge sided with Ms. Collin's when she said that she most certainly didn't give me permission to sneak into her house and steal her manuscripts. Curses, the legal system should be more faulty!**

**As always, Peeta is my homeboy. Enjoy!**

~5~

Abby was in a completely opposite predicament as Jennifer. Feeling more than a bit like Rapunzel, she gazed out of the side of her imprisonment. There were no windows, nothing that she may have been able to escape through. The only air came through tiny holes, carved smoothly into the clear walls. The entire room had only about a twenty-foot diameter, and its glassy walls curved around to form a cylindrical penal complex. A completely inescapable room suspended what must have been three hundred feet in the air.

It wasn't really glass, though. If it had been glass, it would have broken by now—she had hurled her body against it several times, preferring death than torture at the hands of her captors. After succeeding in doing nothing but giving herself some bruises, she had stopped and checked out her surroundings more fully.

Abby stood up once more, placing her palm against the wall and giving it an experimental push. Nothing. She bit her lip and looked upwards, a glint of sun reflecting off of the smooth surface and casting rainbows all around. She ran her fingers along the air holes again… could it be, possibly…

No. It simply wasn't possible. The idea that somebody would have spent millions- probably billions—of dollars, building a solid diamond cage _just for her_, was unthinkable. She was nobody special; why go after her? Jennifer, she could understand. She was one of the only real psychics in the world. And Sammy—well, Sammy was certainly different. Pretty, smart, and talented—who wouldn't want that? But why Abby?

You have something they want_,_ said a voice inside of Abby's head. And they'll take it from you, no matter the cost.

"That's not true," Abby said aloud, hoping to make herself believe the words. "It's not."

The voice laughed, fingernails down a chalkboard. Think what you want dearie, but they want something from you.

"No. They took me by mistake. They only really want Jen and Sammy."

Yeah, right. If they had only wanted them, they would have just gone to California. Instead, they traveled all the way across the States to get you. And anyways, why would they want them and not you? That Jennifer is too quiet, too reserved. She doesn't seem…natural. And that Samantha… well, she's obviously hiding something.

"Maybe it's because I spread the word about Carla? And about how Scholastic sucks?"

Maybe, maybe. Tell me, Abigail, do you really think that the fools at Scholastic could pull this off by themselves?

"Well, no. But still—"

But what, dearest?

"Goodbye, voice!" This being said, Abby shut her mind, forcing herself to think of nothing but the color pink. The voice hated that.

She blinked several times, warding off the wave of nausea and distress that fighting off her Schizophrenic tendencies usually brought on. She forced herself to look out of the wall again, at the city below.

City? Below? How had she missed this before? She caught her breath and stared at the rooftops of skyscrapers beneath her.

_All the colors seem artificial, the pinks too deep, the greens too bright, the yellows painful to the eyes, like the flat round disks of hard candy at the tiny sweet shop._

What? Why had that thought come to her? The moment that she thought it, she realized it was not her own. But where had she heard it before…?

Now was not the time for petty musings. The more time she spent enclosed in this prison, the more claustrophobic and paranoid she felt. She slammed herself against the glass wall again, banging her fists frantically. "Help! Help me!" she cried. "Please! I'm up here!"

People were beginning to gather on the streets as the day began. No one bothered to look her way. They were too busy milling about, chatting with one another. They were so far below her that, even with her super heightened senses, she couldn't see a thing.

Against her will, Abby began to wail. She sensed that invisible cameras were watching her, probably, but she didn't care anymore. She wanted out, and she wanted out now.

Suddenly her sobs ceased and she gasped in surprise. She pressed her face up against the diamond room, and then narrowed her eyes as she attempted to sharpen the image. Her pupils diluted then grew smaller, imitating a camera lens.

There! Across the city, she could see the tallest building—second only to the one that she was currently trapped in. It seemed to be some sort of clock tower, vaguely resembling the Big Ben. Sunlight streamed down onto it, shining off of the metallic hands. Birds twittered happily as it ticked.

Wait a moment. Sunshine? Birds? She distinctly remembered being blindfolded and made to walk downwards. It had stretched on for miles, making her legs sore as she walked. She recalled the smell of wet earth, the feeling of mugginess in the air as they had descended. So how was she here now? In a city so vibrant and colorful?

_Oh, I forgot, _she thought. _Anything's possible in a candy city, where even the prisons are made of pure diamond. _

Except for the floor, that was. The floor was solid concrete, with no lines or cracks. She wondered how it was that she had managed to be in that room, what with no exits or entrances in sight. Maybe they had built it up around her as she slumbered. Speaking of sleeping, she was tired, so tired. She let out a yawn, and then curled up by one of the walls.

Only half awake, Abby reached out and touched the diamond wall. Smooth, smooth, smooth… then bumpy. Wait, bumpy? Abby sat up, feeling her way around the wall. Yes! There it was, some kind of lettering. Absolutely minuscule, but definitely there. She narrowed her eyes again, letting them focus on the words.

In the place usually reserved for "Made in China" were the words, "Made by SC."

•••

Polly knelt down and touched the ashy ground. As a fire talent, she had experience with burned things. She had even lost friends to the uncontrollable element before. But this was different—this was more personal. Sara had been a kind of teammate, a mentor to everyone on _The Hunger Games Unofficial Fan Site_. To think that she had been alive and well, enjoying herself at the convention just days previous, made Polly angry. A tear escaped her eye, touched the fiery surface of her skin, and quickly evaporated. Reaching up, she used the back of her hand to wipe her eyes. No need to show David that she was weak.

"See anything?" David asked quietly. He had been acting very strange as of recently, ever since they had arrived at the wreckage. Polly supposed that it was due to the fact that they were surrounded by fire remnants. David was a water and air talent, making the two of them an oddly paired duo. Not that she mentioned this to him. He was uncomfortable enough as it was.

"Nope, not yet," she chirped, forcing more cheerfulness into her voice than she actually had. What little hope that she had for Sara surviving was fading as the hours stretched on. Unless they found her soon, and the chances of that were highly unlikely, she was gone.

They spread out, scouring the area of the crash. When they came to a fence, they stopped.

"Didn't Sara fall over this fence?" Polly asked.

David wiped sweat away from his brow. "You mean we've been searching the wrong area all morning?"

Polly took one look at him, and then began to climb the fence. She jumped over the other side, landed heavily on her feet, and began to scream, "Sara! Sara!"

"She won't be able to hear you, you know," David began to say, but Polly shushed him, excitement budding in her eyes.

"Sara? Sara!"

"Mmmmmmhmhmhmhm," came a mumbled sound from near some bushes. David grabbed Polly's wrist and half dragged half carried her over to them. They knelt down and cleared away the bushes.

She had known that Sara would be worse-for-the-wear after her accident, but she hadn't expected it to be this bad. She gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. From beside her, David inhaled sharply.

"That bad, huh?" Sara tried to say, but it came out more like, "Thayet mmm Batttt, hurr?" She tried to smile, but her lips were too cracked and creased for her to properly move them. Her face, hair, and clothing were streaked with blood and caked with mud, and cuts and bruises matted her otherwise perfect skin. On of her legs was bent at an odd angle, and the bone of her left arm was practically sticking out of her translucent skin.

"Oh, god," Polly said hysterically, gripping David's arm tightly. "We have to get her to a hospital!"

"We can't," David said, not sounding one hundred percent sure. "I mean… how would get her there? And how would we explain it?"

"I don't care!" Polly snapped. "She needs help! Now!"

"I know she does," David said, chewing on his lip. "Do you have any idea where Dee is, by any chance?"

Polly gaped at him for a moment, and then shut her mouth. "Uh—I'm pretty sure that she's vacationing right now."

"Where, though?"

Polly thought back to all of those late-night YIM conferences. "She's in… she's in Canada!" she proclaimed, growing excited. "Toronto, if I remember correctly!"

"Great!" David cried, standing up. "You stay here and protect Sara, and I'll fly back to Toronto and find Dee."

"Fly you high, warrior," Polly murmured, but he had already walked away.

•••

Ana left out a huff of frustration. She and Dally had been watching the entryway of the force field for what must have been hours, and so far, not a single interesting thing had happened. At first they'd kissed and caressed, but as the day wore on and became too hot to hold on to each other, they had separated and begun to patrol the area.

Dally was not pleased to let Ana go off on her own, but she had simply whined and complained until he let her. She was a big girl, and in any case, she was holding a machete. Nobody ever messed with a girl wearing cargo pants and holding a machete.

Still, Dally worried. If the kidnappers had no qualms about kidnapping three teenage girls, two of who were only thirteen, then what would stop them from raising a hand against his Ana? They had, after all, just murdered a sixteen year old by making her car explode. Dally balled his hand into a fist. Poor Sara. She was dead now, no doubt about that. If she had been still alive, then either David or Polly would have called to confirm it. The fact that they were still gone made it hard to believe that she had survived.

Sara. Dally had known her pretty well, as well as anyone else had. They were fellow moderators, often zapping one another with their "power sight" during the convention. They would text and YIM during the long, boring meetings that Leo and Jennifer would create. It made them more fun, being with his forum-sister. He owed to her memory, as well as to Jennifer, Sammy, and Abby, to bring down Scholastic. Or at least die trying. But if anything happened to Ana…

Ironic. Throughout the entire _Hunger Games_, Dally had been annoyed with how infatuated Peeta was with Katniss. About how he spewed noble comments regarding how he would rather die than live without her. He had seemed too pathetic and feeble, loving such a kick-ass girl. And now Dally was Peeta. And Ana was Katniss.

He hoped that their story wouldn't end the same way—with Dally only having one leg, and with all of their teammates dead.

•••

Emma touched her hand to the invisible force field before them, patting it down and searching for an entrance. No such luck; the wall remained completely entrance-free. She sighed and turned to face Leo. "How much longer are we going to keep looking? We've gone completely around, three times! If we were going to find something, we would have found it by now!"

Leo agreed, very downcast. "I guess that we should go meet up with Dally and Ana now."

Emma touched Leo's shoulder, very lightly. "I'm sorry, Leo," she murmured. "I want to find them just as much as you do. But this isn't helping."

"Yeah, no, you're right." Leo acknowledged. "It's just… well…"

"You like Jennifer?" Emma inserted, raising an eyebrow.

Leo flushed. "No, no! I mean, I like them all!"

Emma grinned mischievously. "_All_ of them? You know that Sam and Abby are too young for you, right?"

"No! Not in that way!" the poor boy was getting completely flustered now. "I mean… just Jen…"

"So you do like her!" Emma shrieked, jumping up and down with glee. " I knew it! I knew it! I—"

Leo grabbed her, put his hand over her mouth, and pulled them both into crouching position. "Somebody's coming!" he whispered hoarsely. Emma simply nodded, wide eyed.

A door, or that's what they supposed because they couldn't really see it, slid open, revealing two guards. Dressed in all black and suited up with guns, knives, and walky-talkies, they began to patrol the length of the wall. A kind of lock box shimmered into existence as a third guard hurried out after them. He paused to pound some numbers into it, and the door clanged shut behind him. He followed his fellow guards to another edge of the fortress, than disappeared.

Emma clutched Leo's arm. "So it's not really invisible," she whispered. "It's just camouflaged— really, really well."

"What? What makes you think that it's not invisible?"

"If it were invisible, then we would still be able to see them now. We can't, so it's solid."

"That makes sense," Leo admitted. "Come on—let's go back to the camp. I think that I know a way to get us in."

"Did you see the code as he typed it in?"

"Kind of." Leo stood up, brushing dirt and leaves from his pants. "Let's go."

•••

The first day that you are approved by the Powers That Be, expressly made by the Goddess, Suzanne Collins, you know. It's a kind of tingle. When you first wake up, your toes feel like they have pins and needles in them. As the day progresses, the feeling spreads up and around your body. It fills you with a sense of joy and wonder. By the end of the week, your powers have settled in, and that feeling leaves you. But it is something that you always remember.

Sammy woke up with a start, that same feeling creeping up somewhere around her midriff. Her first thought was, "Wait, what? My powers settled in half a year ago!"

Her next thought was something infinitely far more confusing. "Why the hell am I underwater?!"

Her third thought was, "Why am I not going upwards for air? I have to go upwards for air!"

This third and final thought forced her mind into starting, and she kicked off of the bottom of the water container, breaking the surface and gasping for air. Her long wet hair hung in her face, so she flipped it back and braided it.

Glancing about the room, all that she could think was, "This isn't my bedroom." Then all of the previous days events came flooding back to her—getting kidnapped, being threatened, watching Sara be murdered. She took a long look around her room, and then bit her lip. She was in a tank, wires hooked up to her arms, legs, and back. The outlying roomed seemed to be some sort of laboratory.

"I didn't know that Scholastic had a lab," she mumbled to herself. A sliding door opened somewhere behind her, and a tall, lithe figure slipped through. "Good morning, Sammy!" chirped a very familiar voice. "And how are you feeling today?"

Chills ran down her spine. She turned around very slowly, careful not to detach any wires. "Hello, Carla."

Carla smiled, her bouncy platinum blonde curls swinging wildly around her face. "I'm so glad to see that you've remembered me," she simpered, her voice like a wind up toy. "I thought that you may have forgotten our… chat."

Sam smiled as politely as she could. "Yes, I do. Now, would you mind telling me what these wires are for?"

Carla's simpering smile turned to surprise, and then to delight. "You mean…you haven't noticed yet?"

"Noticed what?" Sammy asked, a note of pleading in her tone.

"Perhaps I can explain that," a voice said, from behind her again. Sammy jumped, then whipped around. A young scientist, probably in his mid-twenties, blushed as her gaze fell on him. "You see, Miss Harp, you've been selected for a most exciting experiment."

"I don't remember signing any waivers," she said, with a pointed glare at Carla. "Just wait until my lawyer hears about his."

Carla laughed, throwing back her head and shaking about her curls. "Oh, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy!" she chuckled. "Honestly! Did you really think that we would just let you go tell the world about this?"

Sammy's blood felt cold in her veins. "What do you mean?" she asked slowly. Carla smiled, baring sharp, pointed teeth.

"You don't exist anymore, sweetheart." Carla held up a copy of USA Today. The headline proclaimed, '4 Missing in deadly car explosion, presumed dead'.

"No," Sammy whimpered. "No! You can't do this! You can't!"

"Oh, we will," Carla said sweetly. "In fact, we already have. Why don't you take a look down?"

Slowly, Sammy looked down. She gasped in shock and horror. Where her legs had once been, now grew a long, purple fish tail. "You made me a _mermaid_?" she shrieked. "What the hell?"

Carla twirled a lock of hair around her finger. "Not just a mermaid," she said. "A muttation mermaid."

"A… muttation?" The words reminded her of _The Hunger Games_, of the reason that she was in this mess in the first place. "Oh no. Oh no. I'm sorry, ma'am, but you're insane. This isn't right! This isn't legal! _This doesn't exist!_"

"Oh, I'm afraid it does." A new voice this time, sounding both deeply remorseful and deeply satisfied. A stench of blood and roses filled the room. "Welcome, Miss Harp. Or should we call you Miss Carp?"

Sammy turned around yet again, her arms looking frail in comparison to the slim and powerful tail. Her jaw dropped and her eyes bulged out of her head. And this time, her blood really did run cold.

But that just have been because she was half-fish.

•••

Dee, having received a very urgent email from her friend David, was nervously pacing around the edge of the pier at Niagara Falls.

What to do, what to do. They were all _gone._ Sammy and Jen and Abby kidnapped. Sara found dying in a bush. A _force field_ concealing someplace they couldn't get into.

Dee needed a nap. Aspirin. Because this was too hard to take in. But of course, this would be a whole lot harder for all of them. They were the ones there, after all.

But what could she do? Why had David e-mailed her?

Oh. Because she was in Canada. They needed help now.

_Go get to a hospital_, she told herself fiercely. _That's what they need._

So Dee hurried from the pier, her feet slapping the ground with each step, and she didn't stop running until she had reached the first hospital in sight.

•••

Still so dark. Hungry. Thirsty. Dirty. Sweaty, muggy. Greasy, unbrushed hair. Cold.

Jen wanted a shower and dinner and a bright fire in her living room.

About an hour ago, she had taken to muttering to herself. "_Gotta go. Gotta eat, gotta drink, gotta get clean, gotta sleep and dream...._" As if she were insane. As if this were back a hundred years ago and she was in an insane asylum. Because that was what it felt like.

All her nightmares were filled with death, gory images. So many times Jennifer had seen rats eating chunks of her flesh, multiple times she'd witnessed Leo trying to save her but being shot ruthlessly by her captors.

Nightmares had never plagued her before. This was the worst type of torture. She was reminded of the tracker jackers from The Hunger Games. Targeting that one place in your brain that holds your fear and makes you live it through your dreams.

Now she was inflicted with terror in her mind—a place that'd always been _hers_, the mindcaster, the one who didn't have to worry about anyone controlling her mind though they'd have to worry about hers controlling theirs—but here, here the darkness and the dankness and the disgustingness of all that was happening had worked their ways into her head and now she was having these bad dreams.

_Tracker jackers. The Hunger Games._ Why did those words send jolts through her mind?

Because Jen knew where she was.

And as soon as she realized this, she jumped to her feet. Hearing the scratching of sharp, tiny nails on the ground, Jen knew the rats were scuttling away from her sudden movement. The first attempt she made at moving since she'd been thrown in here.

Which had probably been days ago.

She'd already become resigned, though she hadn't wanted to. She had just been lying around, curled in a corner, acting insane. Acting as if there was no escape.

Now that Jen knew what was going on, that wasn't going to happen anymore.

. . .

As they walked, Ana stared critically at Dally. There was something about him. His features were too…she didn't know. Too male.

She didn't love him.

The thought sent something running down her spine.

Sorrow? Annoyance? …freedom.

Breaking up with Dally could mean something else. She'd be free from _guys._ Free from the prison that is a relationship.

Sure, it'd been nice. Having a boyfriend. Who was totally sweet.

Suddenly breaking up with Dally seemed it would be a huge obstacle.

Ana stopped walking, and Dally turned around to look at her. "What?" he said.

"I love your accent," Ana retorted, the habit still strong. She shook her head. "I mean…I mean…Dally, look."

He gazed into her eyes, an earnest look in his eyes. Like he loved her. Really loved her.

"Oh, god…," she muttered. "I don't know how to say this. I'm not going with that cliché, 'it's not you, it's me,' thing, because it's not. It's something else. But…but…."

"Let me get this straight," interjected Dally, his accent flat. "You're…breaking…up…with…me?"

Ana regained her poise. Her voice was not as choked, her eyes not as cloudy, as she said, "Yeah. I am."

Dally shut his eyes for a long moment then turned away, walking forward stoically, not acknowledging Ana. How…how could she do that? To him, to them?

She'd complimented his sexy accent a moment ago! He felt a tear in his eye. But he couldn't cry.

Next to him, Ana was boiling, now. He was mad at her? Why the hell should he be mad! It wasn't her fault.

Though neither knew it, they both made vows to themselves. To have as little to do with each other as possible now.


	7. Chapter 6

~6~

Hooked up to all those tubes was one thing, but her parents' are involved was another. They were an endless fountain of worry, anger, and embarrassment. "Sara, dear, what _were_ you thinking? Your car…we'll have to get you a new one." Though they talked and talked about the accident, wondering why it'd happened, how she could have done that, gone out and drove insanely late at night, Sara's mind was elsewhere.

She didn't want to be at a hospital, getting better while her friends were out doing…doing what? Fighting? Still chasing those cars? Under arrest or something?

Because after Dee had gotten those ambulances, and they'd come and gotten her, she hadn't seen Polly or David. Where they were, she didn't know. What they were doing, she had no idea. If they were in trouble, she had the answer: Yes. They were all in trouble.

Jumping up and fleeing the hospital wouldn't help anybody, though. So Sara fought the urge, every minute, to throw off the thin cotton sheet, rip the tubes from her bandaged body, and run with the little strength she had now to where those cars had left her.

"Sara, dear," said her mother, "I have to go, now, to work. I'll see you later, sweetie." Sara rolled her eyes but smiled.

"Thanks, Mom," she replied. "See you." She watched as her mother glided from the room, heels clacking on the white tile floor.

Sara sat, propped against the pillows, for several minutes. Staring straight ahead, not seeing anything. Then when the door opened, she blinked several times. The door clicked closed. "Hello, Sara," said a quiet, firm voice.

Her throat felt dry, but Sara replied, "Hey." She forced herself to take a breath. The man standing at the foot of the bed wore all black. "I thought visiting hours were over."

"I found a way in," said the man, his voice taking on a pleasant quality. As if he were trying to calm her down.

"You can't use your voice," said Sara, glowering, "to persuade me. Only Dally can use his voice. To make people do what he wants, to make them think what he wants."

"What if I…took Dallas's powers?"

Sara's eyes widened involuntarily. "Um, what?" she asked. This was an emergency. She trained her eyes on the man, willing him to catch fire. Lazar-vision, do your stuff, she thought. But nothing happened. "Um, what?" she repeated in a whisper, more to herself.

"What…if…I…took…Dally's…powers?" said the man. "That's what I said." His thin lips turned up in something like a smile.

"Did you?" Sara's breath was rapid, her voice breathy. "Oh, my God…you didn't? Is that even possible? No, they had to be granted…."

The way the man held himself, the way he continued to sneer, made Sara feel sick. "Not where I'm from," said the man. He looked at his nails for a moment, and then shoved one hand into the pocket of his black suit. "Or did you not realize, I come from—"

"Scholastic," muttered Sara. "Of course, you come from Scholastic."

"Glad we're on the same page now, Sara." The man pulled a gun out of his pocket. "Get up."

•••

Leo stood in front of what he supposed was the keypad. "Okay, guys, so, I think I know the code," he said.

"And if you don't?" asked Polly, crossing her arms. "Then what, Leo?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Be quiet, Polly," said Emma edgily. "It won't help if you're rude to Leo." Her eyes flickered from person to person. "We have to try something. Jen, Sammy, and Abby are missing."

Polly sighed. "I just hope I don't get killed."

"We'll make sure you do," Dally muttered.

"Thanks," said Polly. "Why're you in such a crappy mood?" She barely noticed the subtle glance from Dally to Ana, who avoided his gaze, her eyes staring out at a tree in the distance. "Oh…" Polly whispered. "Sorry, Dally." She walked past him though, to Ana. "Hey."

"Hey," replied Ana. "What's up, Polly?" While the two talked to each other, liking the other more with each word, the scene zoomed back over to Leo, who was sweating up a storm because he, simply, didn't know what to do.

He wanted to get Jen back. And Abby and Sammy, but mostly Jennifer. But what if this went wrong? What if it was one of those hostage situations where the girls would be killed if the gang took one step closer to them? How could he live with himself if he let something like that happen? He couldn't. Leo shook his head, blinking back angry tears. "I'm masculine, I'm not supposed to cry," he muttered to himself.

Nearby, Emma said, "What? You're crying?" and walked over to him. "Are you okay?" she asked gently.

"I'm fine," Leo said. "Just fine."

From where Dally stood, he turned to face them, his expression unreadable. "It's so nice of you to be considerate of other people's feelings, Emma," he said. "It sure makes a nice change from some of the girls here." He risked a glance at Ana, again, and his eyes were cold, hurt. "A...very...nice...change..." He swallowed hard and turned away, glaring out into the distance.

Emma looked confused. "Um, okay," she responded, then turned back to Leo. "Listen- we're all worried about them, but they'll be fine. We can get them out of there!"

Leo forced a smile at Emma's confidence. "Okay, sure," he said. "Let's do this." He called to everyone, "Yeah, I'm going to try this, now!"

David hurried forward, and Ana and Polly let go of each other's hands and followed him to where Leo was standing. Even Dally turned around and came a few steps closer, remaining a safe distance from Ana at all times. "Okay," said Leo, forcing a trembling hand forward. His finger, agile from years of playing guitar, felt around and easily found the number panel. "I don't know the code," he informed them. "But I think that I know a way in…"

"How?" Emma piped up from beside him.

Leo coughed. "I'll just explode it...."

"Are you serious?" demanded Polly. "Is that all you have?

"Well, I could try to guess," Leo muttered, focusing hard on the control box. Slowly and carefully, he raised his hand, and began to enter a code."1-800-SCHOLASTIC," he murmured as he typed. He pressed enter, and then took a large step back. The control box made a whirring noise.

"That doesn't sound too great." muttered Polly. And she was right. There was a flash of red where the control box was.

"Crap," said Leo. "I think I messed that up."

"You did, indeed," Dally replied, stepping back, too. "David where's that raft?"

"Um," David said, thinking. "Oh. I think that we, um, left it in Toronto."

"You left our only means of transportation in Toronto?" Ana shouted.

"...Yes..," said David.

"Oh my God! What the hell are we going to do now!" she yelled.

"Nothing," said Emma quietly.

"What?" demanded Ana, her face red.

Emma continued, "They're already here."

Leo looked around them; sure enough, black-clad figures were beginning to emerge from the surrounding forest. They shimmered slightly as they appeared, reminding Leo that they probably had portable force fields on them. "Can't blow them up," he murmured. "David, go. Grab his ankles!" But despite the flailing motions David made, they couldn't stay in the air; he needed his legs to swim through the sky.

The men were closing in on the group, forming a circle around them. "I'm claustrophobic..," said Polly.

"Back off!" barked Ana. She pulled out her machete, preparing to go down fighting.

"Stop!" Emma cried suddenly, her face completely white. "Let them take us!"

Ana regarded her with revulsion. "Are you kidding? And end up like Jen? And Abby? And Sammy?"

"No," said Emma slowly. "But get in. Save them. There's a lot of us."

"But more of them," Ana retorted grimly.

"That's why we let them take us," Emma explained. "So that we don't... get hurt."

"They'll hurt us anyway." Ana slashed out with her machete as a man suddenly lunged at her.

"No!" Polly yelped, throwing herself forward and smashing against the agent.

"Are you insane?" Ana gasped, narrowly avoiding making contact with Polly. "I could have killed you!"

"We have to listen to Emma!" Polly shouted. "She's right!"

"Yes, she is," Leo said, calm all of a sudden. "Let's go." And he walked towards one of the agents, holding out his hands.

•••

Abby turned around for what must have been the eleventh time. "Are we there yet?" she whined, pouting her face like a child. She had been roughly shaken from her sleep by a silent guard, who had then blindfolded her and removed her from her tower. When they were on the ground, her blindfold had been removed and she was free to walk about. Guard's eyes followed her every move, watching in case she was going to run. Instead of being taken through musty tunnels, as she had been while entering the city, she was now moving about the perfectly pristine streets. The sun, which somehow managed to shine brightly despite the fact that they were underground, was reflecting off of the beautiful apartment buildings that lined the roads. They had been walking for what must have been hours, and yet they still hadn't made it out of the residential area and into the real city. She wondered how it could stretch on so long, seemingly forever. Abby sighed, thinking about a T.V. program she'd once seen. Forever is just a state of mind, it'd informed her. So what was this place? Real? Fake? A dream, perhaps, but definitely a weird one. "I'm tired," she complained to the guard.

He glanced down at her but said nothing. Too unresponsive. It was annoying. As she was a constant talker, usually, Abby tried to keep up a conversation. "Where are you taking me?" Questions like that didn't seem to hold well with him. After about ten of those, the man's hand whipped out and slapped against her cheek. She gritted her teeth and said nothing. His actions were clear enough. He could easily do worse. And he wouldn't hesitate to, either. So Abby was silent for a few moments, seething. Her lips were set in a white line, her jaw squared. "Whatever," she muttered, crossing her arms.

The edge of the residential area was coming closer now. The buildings, only four or five stories high, began to grow into skyscrapers. More people- civilians, by the way they were dressed- began to mill around and talk in accented voices. They stopped and stared, quite rudely, as Abby and her escorts passed by. As soon as they assumed that she was out of earshot, they burst into loud whispers, making jeering comments as the way she was dressed. Abby fought back a flush. They were ones to talk, with their hair and skin dyed funny colors.

When the town fell away completely to the city, Abby was stopped and blindfolded again. Then she was marched away, guards on either side of her, while the people behind her remarked on her dilemma.

"What do you suppose this one did?"

"She looks so young..."

"A traitor? You think?"

"Oh, I do hope that we get to see a good old fashioned beheading! We haven't seen one of those in a while!"

Abby swallowed hard. A beheading? Where had she been taken to, the 1600's? But this wasn't some old-fashioned place at all. It was way too new. Attempting to ignore the never-ending volley of comments, Abby bowed her head and tried not to look afraid.

"Almost there," the guard closest to her murmured. As if he had sensed that she didn't want to say anything but was still wondering.

Abby felt herself being led up a few stone steps, then through a door and into a building. She was pushed into an elevator, which began to rise even higher. She felt nervous spasms in her stomach, then all out nausea. "I think that I'm going to be sick," she informed her closest guard. He ignored her.

When the elevator stopped, she was pulled out and taken to another room. Her blindfold was removed, her door locked, and she found herself blinking against the harsh sunlight. "Ugh," she muttered, forcing her eyes to open. "Wait..." It wasn't sunlight. Bright, florescent lights, instead. It looked amazingly like a hotel room, the kind that Abby and her family stayed in when ever they went on vacation. Abby took a few steps, and then sank down into a perfectly made bed. She sat there for what could have hours, or simply several minutes.

She wondered about the rest of the Forum Goers, hoping that they were safe, and that they were on their way to rescue her. Call it paranoia, but something about this whole situation was giving her the creeps.

She was interrupted from her reverie when the door opened, and an older girl stepped inside. The girl smiled sadly at her, but Allie was too shocked to return the gesture. The girl knelt down and began to pick trash up off of the floor.

Allie wanted to say something, but felt that she couldn't. Shocking red hair, porcelain white skin... There was no denying it, Allie knew this girl.

•••

Sammy learned three things straight away. One: The world was more screwed up than she had ever been led to believe. Two: Carla was bitchier in real life than on the phone. And three: President Snow from the Hunger Games Trilogy existed. She felt as if she were in the book Inkheart.

Now President Snow, the man that ruled the fake nation of Panem, was standing before her, talking away. Explaining things. Things Sam had never wanted to be true.

"So, where am I now?" she asked, gritting her teeth, splashing her tail downward indignantly.

"One of the more secret underground laboratories, The Shining Capital of Panem, Panem." President Snow said, sounding somewhat bored. As if he abducted teenage girls and turned them into mermaids everyday. And as if he was growing tired with it. And for all Sammy knew, maybe he did. But she wasn't one of his ordinary victims.

"Wait," Sammy said hesitantly. "Have Katniss and Peeta won The Hunger Games yet?"

President Snow bared his pointed teeth at her. "Don't mention those fools to me," he hissed. "They won last year... and then ran off into the fields of District 13."

"District 13?" Sam said, looking up again. "What? That exists?"

"They are a rebel organization attempting to take down the Capital," Snow explained. "We've had to behead some of their agents that we caught this year. It's too bad, really, that we have to keep them a secret. The people of Panem love a good beheading."

"That's sick," Sammy said in a hushed tone.

"Isn't it," said the president, giving her a smile. Snow laughed. "And yet, isn't that human nature?" He smirked, and then shook his head. "Don't worry though, we have a beheading soon to take place."

"Tomorrow, in fact!" Carla piped up from the other side of the room.

Sammy felt her insides twist up. "Who?" she asked.

"I believe that you know her," the president said. "A Miss Jennifer... Le?"

"No!" Sammy shrieked thrashing her tail around in the tank. "No!"

The president of Panem smiled evilly, clasping his hands in front of his chest. "Don't worry, Samantha," he said slowly. "I know a way that you can save her... and yourself."

"Okay," she said. Somehow, this had all sunk in easily. She was, in her own way, prepared. Reading the Hunger Games eight times helped. "What if I can prove to you that I love Peeta? Then will you let me go?"

"WTF?" asked President Snow, looking baffled. "Why the hell would I want you to do that?!"

"Oh, no reason," Sammy said, taking a sudden interest in her shiny purple scales.

President Snow regarded her expression for a moment then brushed it off as nothing. "You want a way to be let go?" he said, his eyes taking on a gleam that Sam didn't like at all.

"Yes," she said, looking back up at him. "Why? Have a way?"

President Snow nodded and said…

•••

It was still dark. It was still spider filled. And the mushrooms had begun to pop, exuding disgusting clouds of mushroom scent.

All in all, the cave that she was living in was nothing like Jen had ever read about in the hostage books that she had checked out from the library. They were supposed to be locked in a room, fed regularly, and eventually released.

But Jen? She was a regular prisoner. Worse. She felt as if she were hundreds of years back and resigned to a fate she didn't deserve

Like in witch trials, they'd hunt down poor women who weren't guilty of anything but then burned at the stake or thrown down a well anyway.

Jen was not a witch.

She was not guilty.

She had no idea why she was here.

Well, she did. Scholastic. But...why would they want her? Sure, she ran the site that attracted members away from the official one, but still. It had been approved by the great Goddess Suzanne Collins- didn't the powers prove that? Didn't the Goddess' will appease Scholastic?

Apparently, her powers didn't help at all. Because in a minute, Jen's door was open, and the first light she'd seen in days that nearly blinded her was almost immediately cut off. Blindfolded, she was led up a flight of steps. But she was so weak. Tired, not fed in days, and, most of all, thirsty. She continued to stumble with every step until she was just hauled over her captor's shoulder and carried.

"Hello?" Jennifer cried, her voice wavering. "Where are you taking me?"

The voice that responded was low, gruff, and distant-sounding. "To your demise."

"What?" squeaked Jennifer. Her throat grew impossibly drier. "Over dramatic much?"

Her captor let out a kind of roar of laughter. "Not really."

"Please!" Jennifer begged. "Let me go, please! I'm fifteen years old!

I just want to go home!"

"Doesn't matter," said the man. "You openly defied Scholastic. You openly defied the Capitol."

"The… Capitol?" Jennifer asked. She shook her head, trying to free it from the blindfold. "The Capitol doesn't exist! If this is some cruel joke, thought up by Leo, then this isn't funny! Seriously!"

"It is not," responded the man. "If the Capitol doesn't exist, where do you think you are now?"

"Leo's basement?" Jen asked, almost hopefully.

The man ripped the blindfold from her eyes, and she was immediately blinded by the sunlight once more. Jennifer squinted, attempting to see out into the great beyond. Colorful buildings rose and fell before her, impossibly tall and clear. Signs and banners reading, "Capital pride!" flew from even the tallest of these buildings, like pennants from the days of lore.

"Holy crap," Jen muttered. "It's true. It is the Capitol."

"Not in Leo's basement," the man confirmed. "You better enjoy it while you can," he continued. "After tomorrow..."

Jen turned to face him, trembling hard. "After tomorrow... what?"

The man smiled sickeningly and drew one finger across his throat.

Jennifer leaned over and felt the bile in her stomach rise up. "Oh, Holy Ripred," she gasped.

"Ripred?" Asked the man, sounding confused. "Who is that?"

"God," she said, sucking in a breath. "He was in The Underland Chronicles."

"You should know. You mentioned Scholastic."

"Never heard of that," the man asked, shrugging. "Panem is the only thing left in the world."

"What?" she asked. "But...there's a whole six billion people living on Earth's surface...Panem isn't even supposed to exist...!"

"Six billion?" the man scoffed. "Try three million. The wars, famine, and tidal waves killed everyone else."

"Huh?" said Jen. "When?"

"Ever...since...you...came...down," he said slowly.

"No!" shrieked Jen. "But I thought that the world was destroyed two hundred years in the future!"

The man nodded. "Yes. And it's been two hundred years since _that_."

Jennifer sank to her knees. "Four hundred years?" she murmured.

"No," he said. "Just messing with you. But two hundred years. Two hundred years ago, the world ended. One hundred and fifty years ago, the Districts rose up against the Capitol. 75 years ago, the Capitol crushed the rebellion and began the Hunger Games. And last year, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark won the games."

"Um, what?" said Jen. "What about all my friends? Are they still alive?"

"Yes," said the man. "But they're also not."

"What do you mean?" Jen gasped.

"Up on the surface, only one day has gone by," the man explained. "But that's not my point. See, the thing is- most of them are here."

"No." said Jennifer calmly. "No. You can kill me, hang me, and behead me, whatever. But _do not_ hurt my friends."

"There are fates worse than death, Jennifer Le. And, well," the man said, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. "The thing is... it's a little bit too late for that."

•••

She was beautiful.

That was the only way to describe her, the ninja knew. As he watched in her window, saw her sleep, he could only smile. Taken by her fresh innocence, the sweet niceness that seemed to radiate from her, he had watched her sleep every night since he first saw her at age thirteen, swinging at a park with her friend.

And now, here she was, resting peacefully on a hospital bed. So wonderful, so vulnerable.

The ninja moved forward, about to slip open the window and glide inside, when the door opened. Long past visiting hours unless you were a direct relative.

A man spoke to her in a quiet, sure voice. Unlike a normal person, the ninja was able to hear from this far away. She was being threatened. Then when the gun was pulled out, and she was forced up, the ninja leapt from his perch hanging on the window ledge and went into action.

The ninja was not going to let Sara be taken.

As she was forced through the hospital, into a car with dark windows, the Unknown Ninja followed swiftly behind.


	8. Chapter 7

~7~

Ana was not happy. Not happy at all.

Locked in a massive cage with the other two girls, her hands handcuffed behind her back, Ana had nothing to do but sit. And wait. And occasionally attempt to blast their guard to smithereens using her power sight. Her power sight didn't seem to work in this very strange place, however. Instead of the wave of warmth and power that usually rose up with the use of her lazar vision, she felt only a dull throb, the beginnings of a headache. They had confiscated her machete, as well, leaving her, well...

...defenseless.

Ana gritted her teeth. She hated being defenseless more than anything else in the world. She was Ana Juelz, not some freaking damsel-in-distress. She was supposed to be the one doing the saving, not the one who needed saving! So Ana had given herself a goal: break free. It'd seemed simple enough at first. But after hours of thrashing, yelling, and finally, just groaning and muttering, the goal was far-fetched and unachievable. No matter what the other two girls with her said, she couldn't be consoled. Ana glared forward, her eyes hard, wishing so badly she could use her lazar-vision now. Use it and zap that guard into flames. He deserved it.

Ana could see the other cages, all lined up in one huge prison cell. They were really just dim silhouettes, but she knew who was in which. Leo was in the one farthest from her, far of in the westernmost corner. He was too far to talk to, in supposed "solitary confinement". He was, after all, the owner of the site. His punishment would be the most severe.

Close to them, but still too far away to talk to, Dally and David shared a cage. David was pacing angrily, used to being flying or swimming. The cage was too small for him to fly, and contained no water in which he could swim. Dally, on the other hand, had simply sunk to the floor in depression, one hand covering his face. Ana found it hard to look at him, yet even harder to look away. She felt sorry about hurting him, but this emotion was overrun by others. Freedom, happiness, joy at being single. Anger, fear, worry for their predicament. And, above all, confusion.

Ana shook her head to clear it and looked away from Dally. Screw feelings. They weren't the priority. The priority was to get away. Ana jumped easily to her feet and began to pace like David. Unlike him, though, she wasn't walking just to be moving. She needed a way to clear her head and think. There was a loophole to everything, Ana knew that. In games, you had a cheat. In computers, there was a backdoor, a way to hack your way into something. In books, authors messed everything up all the time. These asses screwed up somehow, and she knew it. Only thing Ana had to do now was find out what, and how.

She took another look at her surroundings, looking for any possible exits. The walls were gray stone, and there were no windows to let in any light. Everything was dark, cast in shadows. She shook her head, blinked a few times, continued to look around.

And stopped.

Wait a minute... if there were no windows, nor any sources of light at all, then how could she see? Ana sucked in her breath, suddenly excited. It wasn't possible. Unless... Ana felt a grin spread across her face. Unless... there was another exit, letting in light.

Ana knelt down and felt the floor for cracks. Finding one, she began to scrabble at it, digging a hole like some kind of dog. As the dirt was sifted and the hole grew larger, light began to seep through.

Ana sat back up and laughed.

•••

Watching David pace around the claustrophobic space bored Dally. David said nothing, and therefore was not worth talking to. If he never spoke, Dally wasn't going to bother trying to start a conversation. So he huddled in a corner in fetal position, a hollow look in his eyes. It was hard to see in that room, the light dim, so he let himself feel sorrow for himself. Let himself shed small tears of anger and hurt at Ana's break up. Let himself show the fear on his face at what was happening.

But if light got in, enough, anyway, Dally would shut away his features.

Now he felt like Katniss after the reaping, trying to wipe her face of emotion.

If Dally complained, nothing good would come out of anything. He didn't want to do anything that might irk the guard and endanger his friend's- and ex-friend's- lives. He owed it to them to hold it together, like Leo.

_Leo_. Dally wondered how he was holding up. They had both lost their loves in the same day, to these evil Scholastic people. Jennifer was probably dead already. Ana wasn't dead, but she might have well as been. Dally didn't really care anymore. She had broken his heart, and he wanted her... broken.

Surely, she felt the same way about him. If she'd cared about him, she wouldn't have let him go. If Ana had loved Dally like he thought she had, she wouldn't have crushed him the way he did. Ana was smart. She knew what the outcome of what she did would do to Dally, and she still did it.

So Ana must hate him.

And Dally hated her right back.

Speaking of Ana, what was she doing? Dally removed his hands from his tearstained face, stealing a glance at his ex. She was busy digging at the ground, shaking with silent laughter. Dally shook his head in wonder. Ana had always been more strong in body than in mind- and this just proved it. Going insane after only a few hours of captivity. If she was going to bale on the team, she might as well do it now, while they were still relatively safe. Dally had a feeling that the farther they delved into the secrets of Scholastic, the less likely it was that they would ever be normal again.

Speaking of Ana, what was she doing? Dally removed his hands from his tearstained face, stealing a glance at his ex. She was busy digging at the ground, shaking with silent laughter. Dally shook his head in wonder. Ana had always been more strong in body than in mind- and this just proved it. Going insane after only a few hours of captivity. If she was going to bale on the team, she might as well do it now, while they were still relatively safe. Dally had a feeling that the farther they delved into the secrets of Scholastic, the less likely it was that they would ever be normal again.

Not that they had been normal to start with. What other group of teenagers had Goddess Given Powers? Who else could shoot lazars from their eyes, hold their breath indefinitely, or read other people's minds? Given that fact, Dally knew that this Scholastic thing really shouldn't have been a surprise. The Hunger Games Trilogy: Unofficial Forums had always been on the brink of war with The Hunger Games: Official Forums at , after all. Hatred for each other ruled both parties. Scholastic had always been jealous of because it was bigger and had fewer spammers and a cooler staff.

Now that Scholastic had kidnapped them, had possibly already killed a member, it shouldn't be such a shock as it seemed now.

But it was, anyway.

•••

When Abby awoke, she felt different.

Not the kind of good-different that makes you jump up and down ecstatically. This was one of those differences where, like when you get a tooth pulled, you feel as if there is a gaping hole somewhere inside of you.

Except- that wasn't really the way to say it, either. It was kind of like she had that gaping hole, but it was filled with something different. Something not natural.

Abby shook her head, warding off the unknown feeling. She put one hand to her head to test for a fever, then pulled it away it awe.

Her forehead was burning, and her nails were three times longer than a normal person's.

She glanced at her nails. "Oh, wow," she murmured. Long, black, and tough-looking. And her hands were hairy. "Ew!" she shrieked. "EWEWEW!" Repulsed, Abby threw herself backward, trying to escape. But how could she run away from herself?

"What's wrong with me?" she asked out loud, still staring at her hands. They didn't seem to belong to her anymore- they felt like they were a foreign contaminant, a disease brought upon her.

"I can explain," said a voice, and Allie turned to face it.

A man, perhaps in his mid-twenties, was sitting on a chair in her room. He was dressed like a scientist, and he held a clipboard tightly to his chest. _Not dressed like a scientist,_ Abby thought, chastising herself mentally. _He is a scientist._

The scientist stood up. "My name is Dr. Chad Sullivan," he said, shaking her hairy hand briskly. "I work for the secret laboratories of Scholastic and the Capital."

"SC..." Allie murmured under her breath.

"Excuse me?" the young doctor asked.

"Um, nothing. So wait... if it's so secretive, then why are you telling me?"

Dr. Sullivan smiled, boyish exuberance shining clearly on his face. "Because, Miss Malians," he said. "You have been chosen for a very exciting experiment."

"What kind of experiment?" Abby asked, immediately suspicious. Her very paranoid nature made her hear beat harder in her chest.

_See, I told you that they wanted something from you_. Oh, god. Here it was again, the Voice, practically smirking as it spoke. _Was I right, or was I right, Abigail? _

Abby felt her throat tighten. "You were right," she muttered.

The scientist hadn't answered yet. He just sat there, smiling pleasantly, as if this were just a game. "Answer me, dammit!" growled Abby.

The scientist let out a light laugh. "You see," he began, "Abby, this experiment...you're a muttation."

"What." Abby's eyes widened. She could hear the scientist's heart beating calmly, so unlike hers, so peaceful...she wanted to rip it, him to shreds. Abby shook her head in surprise. Why did she want to rip a man to shreds?

How could she hear his heart? She had a sharpened sense of hearing, but not that good...

The scientist smiled again, as if sensing her question. "Human transformations are relatively new," he informed her. "That's why we try to match the victim's- I mean, volunteer's- abilities and DNA as closely to a specific animal as possible. Take yourself, for instance. Your heightened senses, your paranoia- we took all that, increased it proportionally, then changed your outside. We matched you to a wolf- and so a wolf you became.'

"A... wolf?" Abby asked, shocked.

"Well, somewhat. You are more of a... oh, what's the old term? A... werepire? A werewolf? Oh, yes, that's it. You're a werewolf."

Dr. Sullivan sat down into the lush armchair once more. "Not all transformations are as easy as yours, however," he said.

Abby stared, stunned. "Since when were they 'werepires'?" she demanded.

"Oh, I don't know," the doctor said with a shrug. "It's been so long since those terms were used... at least 200 years, I believe."

"200 years?" Abby said faintly. The doctor ignored her, still mumbling to himself. "Why werepire?" asked Abby. "What is that, a cross between vampire and werewolf?"

"Kind of," the doctor said, pushing a pair of glasses to the bridge of his nose. "Like a werewolf mixed with a vampire. You have the looks of a wolf, the teeth of a vampire, the blood lust of a vampire, and the mind of a wolf."

"Give me a second to think about this," Abby said, sinking down into the bed.

"Oh," the doctor said, looking up at her. "You don't need to think anymore."

"What?" Abby began to ask, but was cut off by a slight pressure in her head. She felt as if there were lights swimming before her eyes; the world seemed to spin around her as the pressure worsened. Through the dizziness and the hazy pain, Abby could barely hear the doctor as he whispered something to her.

"Go forward, and kill those HGT members."

Then everything went black.

•••

She was being taken. The ninja could see that plainly, as could anyone, any person smart or foolish. He couldn't help wondering why the hell the captor was getting away so easily. Speeding down the streets of Toronto, then down a lonely highway. The Unknown Ninja followed, legs pumping hard.

The cool thing about being a ninja was that he could run as fast as any car, sneak past anyone, throw ninja stars...the list of things he could do was endless.

So he had to be able to save Sara from the kidnappers.

But first, he had to catch the car. Which was proving to be far more difficult than he'd imagined.

"Damn it," the Unknown Ninja muttered as he chased the black car. "Slow down!"

The car didn't respond to his orders. It continued to speed away.

The ninja paused for breath, clutching his side. Then he was off again, like a cat pouncing upon a mouse, trying desperately to catch the car.

"You...can't...have...her!" he whispered fiercely, willing himself to go faster. He made a strangled sound as his hand scraped against the back of the car.

As if the ninja had set off an alarm, the front passenger window opened and a gloved hand came into view, wielding a pistol. As the bullets began to fly, the ninja let out a war-like cry. Dodging the many bullets, like catching up to the car had been, was proving to be difficult. But still, Unknown pressed onwards, attempting to catch up. It was worth it; she was worth it.

He reached the back door of the car but found it locked. Taking on of his smaller daggers, he stuck it into the door lock and twisted. The door flew open with a clunk. The car was driving so fast, the air was pressurized and the door flew off. The ninja reached inside of the car and grabbed Sara, pulling her out to safety.

"HEY!" yelled a voice, presumably belonging to whomever was holding that gun, which was now opening fire. Unknown began to run the opposite direction. Now that he had Sara, now that she was safe, he could get her away. At least, he hoped he could.

•••

It was all so easy, President Snow's plan. The only hard part was containing her excitement. Sam often had amazing things happening to her, but still - [i]this[/i] was, by far, the most fantastic.

Other than that and the fact that Sammy couldn't ever speak of it, or really even think of it, it was the coolest thing ever. Sammy smiled down at her tail.

Oh, wait, scratch all that. Too obvious. Groaning inwardly, Sammy thought about President Snow's orders, plans. Not as simple as she'd hoped. Maybe too difficult, even, for her to be able to do. But she knew she had to try. Sam ran a hand over her scales nervously. She still couldn't believe how gross and slimy but wonderful they felt on her fingertips.

At first, Sammy had been skeptical of what he had asked her to do. However, as his explanations grew longer and more extreme, Sam felt herself believing him more and more. The facts, the details- they all fit into place. Maybe he was just a good liar, but as long as he held the promise of release, she would follow his rules.

She clutched the end of the ladder as it was lowered into her tank, then felt herself being pulled up, up, and out of the water. She landed on the marble flooring, her tail making a thwacking noise as it collided with the cool surface. Almost immediately, she began to feel different. Glancing around her, she saw that her tail was shrinking, fading back into two perfect legs. She stood up shakily and began to walk around, feeling like a toddler taking it's first steps.

"Get me some pants, please?" she called out to no one, but immediately a pair fell into her arms. A few tries walking failed her, and Sammy ended up lying on the floor, her elbow or knee or head aching. But soon she'd regained the easy task of walking, and she hurried to where she hoped an exit would be.

As she poked her head around the exit, Sammy wondered about Snow. There was never very much written about him- not in The Hunger Games, at least. She assumed that he was evil. Why else would he continue the Hunger Games? Why else would he be so cruel, so awful to Peeta and Katniss? She had also always considered him to be materialistic. After all, he _was_ the head of the Capital. That had to mean something, right? He was without a doubt the richest man in all of Panem.

Still, Sammy was skeptical. There was something about him- a deep set sadness, like puppy dog's with big, soleful eyes- that made her pity him. With that carefully practiced accent, that charming and distinguished tone, it wasn't hard to believe that he could do anything he pleased.

Following a very helpful set of signs, Sammy made her way down to the launch room. When she arrived, President Snow- _Jeremiah_, Sammy corrected herself- was already there, waiting.

"Glad to see you made it alright," Snow said. He motioned towards a titanium disc that lay on the floor. Sammy couldn't help but smile as she noticed it; she'd never thought that she would ever see a launch pad, let alone ride one. So Sam waltzed up to it and stood on top.

"Thank you," she said to the president. Outside, she was smiling, looking trusting. But she couldn't really trust Snow. He was difficult. There were different sides to him. Therefore, he was dangerous.

Snow looked a little bit anxious as he watched her prepare. "I'll catch up to you in a few days," he said nervously. "Until then, don't trust anyone. If you have to ask directions, pick a nice ladyfish. Don't, under any circumstances, ask a shark. Most of them are related to Carla."

"Um," Sammy said, not sure whether or not he was joking. "Alright."

"Once you make it there, you're going to have to show them that you can be trusted. You'll need to show them this," he said, and handed her a silver chain, from which hung an aquamarine trident. "They'll know to let you in."

"Okay," Sammy said again, taking the chain and tightening it around her neck.

"When you arrive, ask for a man named Howard." Snow instructed. "Tell him that the Rebellion has suffered great losses, and that we need his medical skills at the surface."

Sammy wished that she knew more about this Howard-man. What was he, that he was so skilled at healing? That he could rival the Capitol in medicinal skills?

"He is trained in water aid especially. Howard will be able to come back with you, Sammy, but he won't be able to breathe like you will. So, you'll have to pack him up in trident." The President gestured to the necklace.

"Um, how?" said Sam.

"You'll know," President Snow.

"How?" demanded Sammy. "I can't do this all on my own! You're supposed to tell me how--"

But he cut her off with a wave as the metal circle she stood on began to lower instead of rise. "Don't die out there," Snow called as she lowered. "You're like the daughter that I never really wanted!"

Then all that she could see was darkness. The cylinder around her began to fill with water. Sammy felt claustrophobic as she wondered if this was the Capitol's way of getting rid of her- convincing her that she was a mermaid, then drowning her in a tube. For a sickening moment, she was completely submerged in water. Then the walls fell away, and she shot off with a crack, her purple tail working swimmingly. "Thank god," she muttered, then began to swim forward into the unknown waters.

•••

Bank right. Breathe. Don't let them catch you.

A strategy Miranda Cree had learned long ago. They were catching up with her now. Getting closer. Heart pounding, Miranda eyed a patch of forest. One thing she loved about Alabama was that there were woods everywhere.

But running to them, that was the difficult part. Oh, why couldn't her teleportation power work here?

Miranda turned at fired her gun at them as they drew closer, then sprinted the last ten meters into the woods. She grabbed a branch of the first tree that she saw, and swung herself up into the tree's leafy bows. Panting for breath, she pulled herself up farther and farther into the air. Pausing a moment to catch her breath, she watched as one of the masked men lifted his gun towards her, aimed, and...

Player Terminated

"Ugh," muttered Miranda, inserting another coin into the game machine. She wrapped her hands back around the gun. This time, she had moved no more than two feet before she was shot down and killed again. The game machine made a beeping noise, asking her for more of her money. Miranda dug her hand deep into her pocket, desperately searching for more tokens. No such luck; she had run out of her supply.

"Bill," Miranda called as she turned away from the game. "I need more

coins!"

Bill, a toothless old man and the arcade's owner, grinned at her and shook his head, taking a break from wiping the greasy countertop at the bar. "I'm cutting you off, Randy," he said, and then laughed. "You've been playing that games for the last six hours!"

"But I'm so close to beating level five!" Miranda groaned.

"Tomorrow," promised Bill, laughing lightly. "Right now, you can beat it."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"As in, 'Go home','" grinned Bill.

"Fine," muttered Miranda. "See you tomorrow, Billy-boy." The nickname made him roll his eyes, and he watched her walk from the room, hurrying outside into the darkness.

As Miranda walked home, streetlights casting shadows upon the empty street, she felt a kind of chill run through her body. It was summer, and in Alabama, it was usually pretty warm. Tonight was no exception- so why was she feeling so chilly?

She shook her head. She had been feeling out of sorts ever since the Hunger Games Convention, almost like a premonition. But a premonition of what?

Remembering the Convention scared her. The fear in Jen's eyes as she and Leo spoke in hushed voices in a corner. The tremor in their voices as they announced it was over. They hadn't informed Miranda but she knew something was wrong.

Someway, somehow, Miranda knew that her friends were in trouble. And that she needed to help them.

She bit her lip and leaned against a brick wall. The question was where to go. Where would they be? California was her first guess, as three of the more prominent members lived there. But what about Ireland? Or Canada? Or even India? The world was a great, wide place, and Miranda knew that they could be anywhere.

Canada. That would be her first attempt. Miranda closed her eyes, focused hard...

And disappeared.

•••

Dee was beyond worried now.

As if it wasn't bad enough that three of her friends had been kidnapped, the rest had been soon to follow. They were gone, just gone, leaving her, Sara, and... The ninja.

The ninja. Dee sighed. She had absolutely no idea who he was, or how he'd even gotten there, but here he was. She had been waiting in the hospital's visitor room, anticipating the moment when Sara would be released. Next thing she knew, he had burst through the door carrying a very freaked-looking Sara in his arms. Dee had stood up, worried, but he had been so comforting and caring that there was nothing else for Dee to do. Together, the ninja and the girl had explained to her about how Sara had been kidnapped, and how the unknown ninja- or Unk, as Dee preferred to call him- had saved her.

After that, how could she not let him help? After all, he had rescued one person from Scholastic's clutches. Who could say that he would not rescue more? He obviously had a slight understanding of how they operated.

Yet an air, something unpleasant, radiated from him. Perhaps it was just the fact that ninjas were usually the bad guys to the good guys.

"Okay, wow," said Dee, letting it sink in. "You're a ninja and you saved my friend."

What a day.

•••

What a great admin he was. Leo had just led half his forum into the hands of the enemy. "Damn it, damn it, damn it...," he kept muttering. "I wish I hadn't made this mistake." And being the leader--one of them, anyway--Leo was being the most severely punished.

It hadn't taken him long to realize this, either.

Every once in a while, a black-clad man came into view and slashed a whip with deadly accuracy at his back. Leo felt faint and sick and guilty.

Now the slight light in this dungeon was being blocked, again. The devilish figure that was creating Leo's hell was back, a new whip ready. But Leo needed to show this prick that he was the one with power. "Hey," he said, his voice hoarse, dry, but strong.

The man responded by cracking the whip on Leo's shoulder. Multiple times.

*Multiple times till a cut opened, stretching and forming a bloody gash that Leo wondered would ever heal.

But this was all Leo's fault, anyway. He knew the blame had to rest on him, somehow. He was the oldest, he was in charge….

So Leo had to take the punishment. He shut his eyes, gritted his teeth, and waited for the whipping to end.


	9. Chapter 8

~8~

The floor beneath his feet didn't feel like a normal floor. Too cold, too hard, too…solid. Well, everything seemed too solid to David, but that wasn't the point. As he walked back and forth in his _cage_, thoughts raced through his mind. _A cage—I'm like an animal…I want to be a cheetah. Cheetahs live in the jungle. Jungles are hot. Beaches are hot. Girls in bikinis play volleyball on beaches…._

As usual, David's thoughts were going nowhere.

Then he looked down and barely noticed Dally, curled on the floor. Tears streamed down his face. _Baby. Babies cry. Dally cries. Dally is a baby._ David shook his head. Was he seriously thinking in sequence like this?

Being locked in this dungeon was driving him mad.

David tried to stick his head through the bars of his confinement, his fingers curled around two rusting metal bars. "Hey…," he muttered. "I want to get out."

Like someone was going to hear that or help him.

His legs felt…painful. So did his arms, his whole body. Tingling, almost like when they fell asleep but worse. He needed to be swimming, be it through the water or through the air. And even though this was a massive cage, bigger than his capacious manhood, David was unable to fly. Walking was the best he could do.

"Dally?" said David, his voice low. When Dally didn't respond, David kicked him in the side.

"Càc!" cried Dally. "What was that for, you tuilí?!"

"We need to get out of here," whispered David.

"I never would've guessed," Dally muttered.

"Really? Idiot," said David. Because of Dally's uber-pwnful accent, he'd /accidentally/ persuaded David into thinking that he really hadn't known. Sarcasm wasn't Dally's strongest talent.

"How do you propose we get out, David?" Dally continued, ignoring the comment.

"I dunno," said David, turning to look back out of the cage. "But we have to. This feels awful."

"No wai," retorted Dally, still failing to sound sarcastic.

"Yes wai," said David, still staring into the dark. "Hey…where's—?" Looking outward, he'd noticed that only two figures sat in the cage nearby. Ana was gone.

David let himself sink to the floor. Wherever she'd gone, she'd be okay, he hoped. She was smart, resourceful.

But everyone else, mattered, too. They had to get out. David groaned, feeling the need to swim, to move, and began to pace again.

. . .

Jennifer Le stood in front of a guillotine, a noose, and a stake.

The blade of the guillotine was gleaming almost angrily, its point so sharp. The noose hung tightly, its knots secure. Surrounding the bottom of the stake was a bale of hay.

She was to choose how she wanted to die. No matter which she chose, the Capitol would get an entertaining death.

Gulping, Jen looked down each of them. Which was the least painful?

Burning at the stake was definitely out. Burning to death…that would hurt for longer than Jen cared for. Of course, they all would, but the fire was the worst.

Hanging wasn't good, either. She'd feel it for about five minutes, probably, until she blacked out from lack of air.

Getting her head cut off didn't seem like such a hot idea, though. If she were to be buried—though Jen doubted they'd even give her that much—Jen wanted her head on her shoulders. Where it belonged.

Feeling a shudder run through her, Jen let out a whimper. _I don't want to die,_ she thought, trembling. _I'm still a kid. I never lived my life fully…._

But there wasn't much time left. Her guard had said just a few hours. But that'd been seemingly forever ago. And Jennifer wasn't so very sure of how much time was going by down here, anyway, after that explanation. She squeezed her eyes shut and forced a breath.

Then she saw that her guard was coming back.

He was lumbering across the open, grassy field, a grin on his face. A grin that Jen didn't like, despite the fact that it was carefree, happy. It was those things for the wrong reasons. Very wrong reasons.

"Hello," he said. Why was his mood so _light_? It couldn't be like this…. Jennifer's head pounded, but she managed to mumble something in return to him. "You need to pick, now," he informed her.

"Do I?" asked Jen wearily, putting her fingers to her temples. _I don't even _get _headaches.…_

"Yes," he said shortly. "Pick. Now." His tone turned biting but he still wore that awful smile. "Tell me what you choose."

Jen gazed evenly at him. She'd regained her poise. Trying to reason with herself, she kept saying, "Be strong. You have to do this for your forums…," under her breath. "…For your forums, for yourself…for our honor…."

Then she looked up at the guard. Looking him in the eye, Jen said, "Okay, here's what I choose." And she told him.

. . .

Now Sammy knew how David felt. The water…it was hers. It was amazing. Sliding past her hands, swirling around her tail, lifting her hair in a halo around her head as she glided forward.

"I love the water," Sammy said to no one in particular, darting over to a school of silver fish. They scattered as she came near them, leaving behind popping bubbles.

Flipping and twirling in the deep, her tail glowed. "I'm like the Little Mermaid," sang Sam. "My best friend's name is Flounder and I'm a wooonderful singer!"

This was too much fun.

"Oh, cool, a cliff!" she grinned, diving downward into darkness. The water was colder down there but refreshing. Sort of like she'd been walking around on a hot day, but now it was night, and everything had cooled off some.

A light shone nearby, a glowing red ember in the black waters. Sammy's eyes widened and she swam as fast as possible upward. One of those fishes that lived farther down that were cannibals or something—she didn't exactly remember the details. Either way, she didn't feel it was that safe.

As Sam swished through some large, glittering coral reeves, her necklace floated in front of her, the chain large enough for her to easily see the charm but small enough to not escape from her neck.

After a while of fooling around, Sammy decided to try getting serious. She did, after all, have a mission to complete.

Just like that school of fish, Sammy swam off quickly, leaving in her place a cloud of bursting bubbles.

. . .

"Not far now," Ana whispered, grinning. "Not far, not far…." She was almost there. So close. She could see the light. Not the light at the end of the tunnel—well, technically, it was—but the light of a civilization.

All she had to do now…crawl through a little…slide through a grate. Should be easy enough. Ana was slim; she could fit through those wide gaps.

So Ana crawled forward and pulled herself through.

It had been that easy. After some digging—well, really just brushing, because that had been the thinnest dirt she'd _ever_ touched—Ana had broken free.

Surely their captors hadn't been _that_ unsecure. Did they really think the forum-gang was so stupid, so unresourceful?

Well, Scholastic was wrong. Dead wrong. Because now that Ana was out…. She was going to unleash hell on these bastards. She'd just have to get her hands on a weapon. A knife or sword, preferably.

As Ana slipped onto the bright street, she looked self-consciously over her shoulder. It couldn't have been so easy…Traps were always like this. Ana couldn't be caught again. She had to save everybody. If she were caught again, she might end up like Leo. Possibly she hadn't been as guarded because she wasn't as big of a concern as the admin was.

She felt a dry laugh escape her throat. She was even _more_ of a concern to Scholastic than Leo was. Ever. No contest there.

In a short time, Ana knew where she was. She was in the Capitol. The people milling about wore bright colors. Their skin was dyed, their hair was neon, their eyes had jewels encrusted in them. Definitely the Capitol.

The thought of being there though, that baffled her. But only for a minute. Ana decided grimly, "Well, anything is possible." As an afterthought, she added, "Except for slamming a revolving door. That's bull."

Continuing down the shining street, which could've been made from silver and gold swirled together, or maybe someone just dumped on a bunch of glitter, Ana tried to hurry. But she couldn't attract attention.

Not attracting attention? She knew that was laughable. All around, Capitol people were staring at her. Their eyes followed her, every step she took, every move she made.

In a way, Ana didn't blame the fools; she looked pretty insane, even for the real world, up high somewhere. Her clothes were torn and dirty. Mud was smudged on her face. Her short hair was in disarray. Her nails were ragged and encrusted with dirt. She shrugged, because even with all this, Ana still looked awesome.

But it was getting very annoying with all these freaks staring at her. Like she was the freak. Ana was not a freak.

So, finally, she snapped. "Would you stop staring at me?" she demanded angrily, glaring at the Capitol residents in general. They all looked at her for another moment.

A man walked forward but barely. She almost laughed—they were intimidated of her? Of course they were.

"Hello," he said. His voice. It made Ana cringe, it was so ridiculous. Stupid Capitol accent.

"Hey," she said, mimicking his voice. "What?"

"We just…we thought you look amazing," he said. "We love this new trend!"

Ana was torn between bursting out in laughter and taking this seriously. They liked this? Ragged, tired, un-showered? "Okay," she said. "Seriously, though."

"We love your…look," squealed the man, blinking rapidly, running a golden hand through his gree-and-silver hair. "Right, everyone?" There were nods and cries of agreement.

"All right," said Ana, allowing a grin to spread on her face.

"And we're all going to _totally_ use your look! It's faboo!" he said, bubbling. Ana bit back a laugh. He was so…freakishly idiotic….

"Cool," she replied, blowing on her nails, the gears in her head turning. Sure, they were weird, but it was sweet having people want to look like you. "But wait," she said, dropping her hand to her side and trying to look horrified. "My outfit's not complete!"

There were gasps all around. Ana heard the excited words, "Oh, my!" and "Oh, I want to know what she's missing so I can get it!" and "Oooh!"

"I'll need your help getting it," she informed them lightly. "Is there a weaponry nearby?"

. . .

Sunsets were beautiful. Sara smiled, watching the sky fade from brilliant red to violet to navy blue. She lay outside in her backyard, the grass soft against her back. The lines from Katniss's lullaby popped into her mind, and she heard herself humming it. "…A soft green pillow…."

Then the stars came out. The little pinpoints of light that made her day. So beautiful.

And Sara felt completely safe right now. The ninja was not with her directly, but she knew he was watching her, waiting to save her if anything were to go wrong.

In a way, it was creepy, but in another way, it was comforting.

Calm, Sara let herself breathe normally for a few minutes. Then she let the awful things enter her mind again.

She had to save her friends. She didn't know how but she did. They were in trouble. And maybe…maybe if Unknown hadn't saved her, she'd be with them. It was both a blessing and a curse, that ninja.

He'd saved her from whatever fate her friends had. But he'd also ruled out an easy way to get to them, because she was sure that was how they'd all been captured.

"I need to save them," she whispered.

Then she heard a low voice say back, "No, you cannot." The accent was Japanese, she could tell right off. And she knew who it was.

"Hey," she said. She hadn't even really heard the ninja speak yet. Unknown had been very quiet. But his message had been totally clear. "Why not?"

"You have to stay safe," Unknown said. She couldn't see him. He must have been hiding behind a bush or in a tree or something.

"But…but I have to help them!" she said fiercely, hearing her voice rising with each word. "I need to, Ninja! They're my friends!" Her voice cracked and she stopped speaking. "Please."

"No," replied the Unknown Ninja, and then he was silent no matter what Sara said. After a few minutes, she was quiet as well, and the only sound in the air was the slight whistle of the wind.

So she lay on the ground still as a dead bird (because still as a statue is overused), not doing anything. The leaves rustled but barely, so she assumed it was just the wind.

But when she felt, rather than saw, a face above her, her eyes widened. Well, it wasn't exactly a face; really it was just a piece of black cloth covering a face.

Then the cloth was lifted with a gloved hand, and she didn't have time to freak out. The ninja pressed his lips against hers, and in a flash, he was gone.

Sara sat up bolt right, a look of confusion, horror, disgust, and ooh-I-was-kissed-by-a-ninja on her face. Then she stood up and hurried into her house, where she hoped the ninja couldn't look in.

. . .

"Help me," said Miranda, "please?" She tugged the sleeve of the first man she saw on the street.

He gazed down at her as if she were a mere mouse. "Tell me who you are?" he asked.

"Miranda Cree," she said without hesitation. "And I need help. I'm looking for…well, I don't know, but please, sir." Her voice faded and her eyes grew largely, shining with tears. No one could resist this look.

"Okay, sweetie," he said, taking her hand. "So, do you know what's going on?" Her look showed him clearly that she had no idea. "Well, then, let's find out. What do you know?"

Miranda coughed. "I…I don't…," she whimpered. "Something bad. I think it has to do with"—she whispered the name—"Scholastic."

The man's soft blue eyes gleamed with humor for a second then burned seriously. She wasn't joking. Either this girl was mentally ill, or there was something going on. "That book company? For kids?"

"Yes," Miranda said solemnly. A cold wind blew, blowing the tufts of gray hair on the man's head backward. "You'll help?"

"Sure," he said. "Where do we start, Miranda?"

She thought for a moment. Still gripping his hand, she whispered something to herself, and the spot they had been standing on the sidewalk was vacant until the next pedestrian hurried by.

. . .

_Kill. Kill. Kill. _

This was the one word that was in Abby's mind now. It flashed continuously, bright and bold in her brain. Every time she closed her eyes, this was what she saw.

She had to kill.

More specifically, Abby had to kill the members of HGT.

This wouldn't be a difficult task. Her claws and teeth were sharp. Her orders were clear.

Abby felt a wolfish smile creep onto her muzzle, baring her teeth involuntarily. She pranced forward, running full-speed down the grassy hill.

After having been set free on the surface of Canada, Abby felt wonderful. The moon outside was full and bright. And she could hear everything, see everything.

_My God, that ninja kissed me!_ She heard a voice say. It was quiet, miles away, but the voice was distinct.

Another said, _No way, he totally didn't do that! That's like…that's like pedophilia! _

The conversation continued, and Abby was able to follow the voices. Soon, she was outside of a brick house where a golden light was filtering out from a top-floor window.

Two stories? Abby would've snickered, had she been human. But she was covered in shaggy, gray-brown fur, decked with paws and a muzzle and tail. And a wickedly cool howl. She could easily jump up there. Crash through the glass unharmed.

Which she did.

The screams of the two girls in the room were loud and horrified. Briefly, she registered them to be Sara and Dee…members of HGT. Even better—Sara was a Mod.

Abby let out a cruel, excited bark. This was the moment she was anticipating.

The glass had shattered inward. Sara was already cut up and bruised—now more glass was penetrating her skin. Abby's black nostrils twitched. The scent of blood….

With a growl, she tore forward. Sara and Dee screamed loudly, and then, oddly, a look of elation crossed her face. Abby paid no attention to that and advanced on the teenaged girls, who were backing into a corner.

Then Abby lunged at them, the words "Kill! Kill! Kill!" still flashing in her mind.

. . .

Emma and Polly sat in identical positions; backs to the cage wall, knees pulled up to their chests, arms holding them there. Their expressions were equally vacant; since Ana left, there was nothing to say or do but hope that she got through all right and was safe.

Some time ago, Ana had begun laughing maniacally. Emma had freaked out, Polly feeling close to tears that her new girlfriend was a madwoman. Emma had said, "Ana! Ana, what is going on?!"

Ana had replied simply, her laughter subsiding for a moment, "A way out. Wish me luck." And nothing had been said after that.

Polly wanted to break the silence. It was terrible. "Emma," she whispered hoarsely. "Think she made it?"

"Of course…she did…," Emma said, unsure. "She has to have. She's Ana."

"Yeah," Polly said. "Ugh, I'm bored."

"Me, too," said Emma, going with the change of subject. "Want to play a game?"

"No," said Polly sourly. "I want to read my manga…."

Emma sighed. "And I want to reread Catching Fire again. But we don't all get what we want." Oddly, her tone wasn't rude or sarcastic but sorrowful.

"I guess you're right," said Polly. "I want an apple, too."

"Ever eat the one I gave you?"

Polly felt her stomach churn. "I'd rather have eaten strawberries," she muttered. She looked around the room. "I'd eat all the strawberries in the world to be out of here, safe at home again."

Emma had no idea what Polly meant, but she agreed.

. . .

He sat and munched a piece of raw chicken. Preparing for what was to come. Brushing a hand over a hairy arm, he groaned loudly. [i]Want more chicken,[/i] he thought glumly. Then, as he forced himself into a standing position, he could swear that the earth beneath him trembled.

Wonderful.

Soon enough, everything would tremble beneath him. People, animals, dreams and hopes.

He smiled as his favorite song came onto the radio and the lyrics resonated around the room.

"Everybody makes mistakes, everybody has those days…"


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N: ****We have an extra-long chapter for all you lucky readers—6313 words! This, as you may or may not know, is the end of Part One: Real Life, and it is the lead-in to Part Two: Unknown-to-you-atm! Thank you all.**

**--San and Allie**

~9~

Sara was in danger; the ninja could sense it. After flipping away from her, he'd run off to Niagara Falls, contemplating what he had done. In no way was he regretful, but he was slightly embarrassed. And now...even from all the way over here, Unknown could feel that something was wrong, and Sara was in trouble. The ninja began to run full speed back towards Sara's house, panting hard. He felt so stressed he stumbled, but, being an awesome ninja, ended up somersaulting forward.

The trip back to Sara's house from the border seemed to stretch on and on. As he ran, his legs pumping swiftly and efficiently, he contemplated the idea that he may be too late. Down streets and avenues he ran, then out onto a highway. Lurking in the dark, he avoided all of the headlights of the car. If he were to be seen, dressed all in black and carrying a large sword, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be arrested, detained, and held for questioning. And he couldn't have that happen, not when Sara- _his_ Sara- was in danger. So, cloaked in the shrouds of shadows and nighttime, he moved forward.

After what felt like hours, Unk made it to Sara's home. All of the lights were on in the house, giving it a distinctly cheerful feel. Her window was open, and her lacy wafting curtains seemed to flow in the breeze. All in all, not the picture of trouble. But Unk knew- he just knew that something was wrong.

Then he heard the scream. It was loud, high-pitched, and awful to hear. Almost inhuman, but coming from a distinctly female person. It wasn't Sara, but in a second, her voice joined in with the horrible wail. Unk wasted no time climbing the ivy vine beneath her window and appeared in the room, before being confronted by a strange thing.

Unk was a ninja. Ninjas were silent, deadly. Still, Unk felt a gasp rise in his throat as he stared at it, and had to swallow back the accompanying bile. The thing was- or appeared to be, at the very least- a giant dog. With hideous pink lips pulled back into a ferocious grimace, revealing pointed teeth straight out of a horror movie. The look in the mutt's eye was feril; untamed and uncontrolled. Unk didn't want to even think the word that came to his mind, but the word came anyways.

_Werewolf_.

Impossible, Unk said, shaking his head. He looked at the dog again, and then realized something. It was standing on its hind legs. Like a human.

Like a werewolf.

All of these thoughts happened in under a minute's time, allowing for Unk to somewhat get his bearings. There was Sara, crouched vulnerable in a corner, in front of the younger girl, Dee. Protecting her. She looked pale, frightened, her breath coming in rapid gasps. She was whispering something to herself. A prayer, maybe. But there was no one guarding Sara; and there Unk's job came in.

The werewolf swiped a paw forward. _Playing with its food, _Unknown thought grimly, and then forced himself to think positively. He could take this thing. "くそー、獣!" he cried, raising his sword. At that instant, the wolf twisted itself around so that it was facing him.

It gave him a quizzical look, contemplating something. Its dark eyes were unreadable. He gasped when he saw them. They were hazel, unmistakably… human. He shook his head and charged forward.

Raising his sword high above his head, he brought it down onto the creature. It let out a kind of puff of indignation, but nothing alerted him to its pain, assuming that it had felt it. _Impossible,_ Unk thought. _I hit it full swing! It had to have felt something! _Unk reflexively ripped back his sword, flipping backwards. But he hadn't hurt it. All that Unk had done was make it angrier. And, if it had been deciding whether or not to kill him because it didn't know who or what he was, it was sure to murder him now.

Going at it again, he yelled, "今夜は地獄の食事!" at the werewolf. Again, the sword seemed to not hurt it at all. Feeling a shiver go down his back, Unk stabbed at its eye. It let out a wail of pain.

It reared backwards, and then stumbled blindly towards him, gnashing its teeth. Feeling more than a little bit sick, Unk brought forward his sword and parleyed its blows. They fell into a kind of bumpy rhythm, ninja and wolf spinning in a bizarre dance of tooth on steel and fur on flesh.

Unk frantically shook the sword out of the eye. He nodded subtly at Sara, who, trembling, ushered Dee to get up, and they tried to sneak from the room. But the werewolf cocked its head towards the door and turned, facing them with a snarl on its lips. It lunged towards them, knocking the two girls over and sending them sprawling to the floor. Sara closed her eyes and held her hands up over he face, but Dee grabbed a book off of one of Sara's shelves and threw it at it. The beast let out a roar as the book collided with its face. Just as it reached out one gleaming claw to rip her to shreds, a blinding light filled the room.

Unk blinked rapidly, attempting to see past the blinding light. As it faded away, he could see a young girl standing in the middle of the room.

"Miranda?" Sara gasped, lowering her hands. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought that you might need my help," Miranda said. "Eew, what is that thing?" A man who looked like he was in his middle age stood, bewildered, next to Miranda. She ignored the look he gave her, but then she whispered to him, "These are my friends…and this is what I meant about not knowing what was happening. But there's more than this."

The wolf let out a growl, the light having aggravated its eyes. In one swift movement, it leapt towards Unk, claws outstretched. Just as he felt the pressure of the dagger-like nails pierce through his skin, the world went dark. Screams rose around him, followed by the roaring of an inhuman animal. Breaking glass shattered onto his body as the wolf threw itself out of the second story window. He could hear it running away, panting as it left.

Blood spots appeared before his eyes, spinning, dizzy, falling, as the ninja passed out.

•••

"Get up," growled a voice, unlocking Leo's cage door so roughly that one of the rusty hinges came undone. "It's time for the Torturing." Leo felt a lump grow in his throat at the words.

"Um, huh?" he said, his voice rising an octave.

"Get up," repeated the man. "Don't try my patience."

Leo heaved a sigh and stood up. Torture was painful for his body, but that was fine. The worse torture by far was hours of sitting in that cage, wondering if all of his friends were dead yet. Wondering if, by some small miracle, Jennifer was still alive. Now, doing anything, even being tortured, was better than allowing his thoughts to drift to her. There were so many things that he wished that he'd said to her, so many times he had almost confessed his love for her. It was too late now. His only hope was that her death had been quick and painless- but knowing the Scholastic employees, they had drawn it out, made her suffer. As they were now making him suffer.

So Leo let the man grab him roughly by the arm and tug him away. "Close your eyes, boy," ordered the man.

"And if I don't?" demanded Leo.

"You'll wish you'd never been born."

"I already do."

The man growled, a low, throaty sound that told Leo that he didn't want to mess with him. The seventeen-year-old closed his eyes and allowed himself to walk where the man guided him.

"Fine," Leo mumbled beneath his breath as he was led onwards. He silently counted the seconds, attempting to memorize the twists and turns as they came. After five or six sudden turn-arounds and two flights of stairways, Leo felt himself being pushed into a room. "What is this?" he demanded as a torch next to the doorway was lit, casting the room in the worst light possible.

All throughout the room, scattered in no particular order, were devices of torture. A table with a gear hung on the wall next to it, leather ropes at each corner of it. A woven basket with a sharp, glinting knife beside it. Another table with straps and a large water dropper above it. A coffin with spikes on the inside.

All throughout the room, scattered in no particular order, were devices of torture. A table with a gear hung on the wall next to it, leather ropes at each corner of it. A woven basket with a sharp, glinting knife beside it. Another table with straps and a large water dropper above it. A coffin with spikes on the inside.

Leo moaned. "All the torture possible…."

The man grunted. "Which one do you want to start with?"

Leo stared, dumbstruck. "Huh?" he said. All of the devices seemed to flicker from the combination of light and darkness in the stone room. All of them looked equally evil.

"Choose. Now."

"I don't know," squeaked Leo, biting his lip. He looked over at the table with the water dropper. Looked pretty harmless. "That." He pointed, his finger trembling.

The man laughed, "They always think _that _one is painless…." Leo felt his stomach lurch.

"Can I pick a different one, then?"

"No. You can later, after this one." The man grabbed Leo by the arm again and took him over to the table, which lay in one of the darkest corners of the room. He shoved Leo onto it and strapped the leather over his body, restricting his arms and legs straight down. Leo's head was tied as well so that it was unable to move a centimeter. As an afterthought, he said, "Make sure to look like you're in pain, no matter what."

"I will be," muttered Leo. "Wait, why?"

"This is televised, boy. So look your worst." And he pressed a button, and drops of water, one after another, crashed onto Leo's forehead.

•••

The first sign of trouble brewing that Sammy noticed was the water's temperature. All throughout her voyage, it had remained a perfectly balanced heat. As she grew closer and closer to where the underwater city was rumored to be, it grew hotter and hotter. She wiped a bead of sweat off of her forehead, all the while wondering how it was possible to sweat underwater.

After a while, it was getting much too hot. Sammy flipped her tail and swam upward until she could see the sky again, the beautiful setting sun, and she settled herself on a rock overlooking a shore.

"Look, Mom!" a kid yelled.

"What, Jason?" The mother demanded sharply.

"A mermaid!" cried the child. "Look, Mom, a mermaid!"

"Nonsense," she said, looking in the direction her son was pointing. "Oh, my God..." she said.

Sammy's eyes widened, and she muttered, "Crap." Just as she began to slide off the rock, she saw a bright flash of light. She groaned and saw Jason snapping a picture with a silver camera.

She slid back into the water and swam a few short strokes to another rock. Pulling herself onto this one, she began to comb her fingers through her hair. Just then, she had an idea.

Sammy was a singer. She always had been, since the time that she was little. When she had received her Goddess-given power, it had been in the form of music. Now that she was a mermaid, shouldn't she be allowed to have a little fun with it?

Stare out into sea

Sparkling waters stretch on endlessly

Glistening colors; every hue

Foamy waves of green and blue

Tide crashes against the shore

Always coming, more and more

And leaves behind shining shells

Of their secrets, they never tell

Sun warms up the sand

All around, all the land

Grains so pure, grains so white

Everything is alight

Wispy clouds drift slowly by

Through the turquoise blue sky

Bright birds flap strong wings along

Chirping out their happy songs

Hours pass, sun disappears

Almost like it was never here

Air cools, stars glow and shine

Moon beams, her luminescence divine

Water stills, makes no sound

Now dark and cold nestled in the ground

So calm, air of peace

Beautiful deep wonders never cease

Like a siren, Sammy was attempting to lead any hot men in the area to her. Why not? No one was around, no one could see her... The one major difference between her and the sirens of lore, however, was the fact that she didn't intend on eating her victims. Or raping them. Whatever the case may have been.

"I thought that I heard something, coming from over there!" yelled a boyish voice. Sammy stopped brushing her long blonde hair and glanced upwards.

"Oh," she muttered. "Hey?"

A boy a little younger than she was was swimming toward her. Perfect. "Whoa," said the boy, looking at her.

She sighed. He wasn't hot at all.

"Do you have an older brother?" she asked him, not even trying to mask the hope in her voice.

The boy widened his eyes. "Um... um... Alex!" he called, turning away. "There's a... girl... here who wants to meet you!"

Sammy rolled her eyes, then slid into the water. It embraced her with its cool, wet fingers, and she opened her eyes and watched as a slightly hotter older boy joined his brother.

"Where?" Alex asked, looking around.

"Right there," the younger brother said, pointing to the rock where she had been sitting. "What? Wait! She left!"'

"Was she ever really there?"

"Of course!" here the younger boy glanced around nervously and leaned in closer to his brother. "And she was... a mermaid!"

Alex stared at his brother. "Come on. You've been in the sun too long."

"What?" sputtered the younger brother. "It's not even sunny, the moon's coming out!"

Sam watched from beneath the water, laughing silently. Then she began to move away, swimming onwards to Atlantis. Some times passed, she wasn't sure how long. All around her, the water churned and frothed, reminding her of a witch's cauldron. There wasn't a direct path towards Atlantis, but Sam had a good idea of how to get there. Her instincts told her. Right, left, down. This was almost too easy.

Resurfacing again somewhere near India, Sammy let her thoughts- and the current- carry her. She flipped over onto her back, giving her tail a rest from propelling her. Sammy frowned, thinking hard for a moment. There was something about India... but she couldn't remember what it was.

A boy with a laundry basket walked forward towards the river where she was sitting. She recognized this boy, but she didn't feel like talking to anyone.

"Whoa!" he cried, dropping the basket. "A--a--mermaid!"

"Yeah, Ranjeet," she muttered. "It's me, Sammy, moderator #6 of HGT?"

"But... but... a mermaid!" he stuttered.

"Things happen," she said, rolling her eyes impatiently.

"Listen. You need to go to Canada, near where Sara lives, and seek out her, Dee, and Miranda. They need your help."

"With what?" Ranjeet asked suspiciously. Sammy shook her head.

"I can't tell you now, but you need to go. And quickly."

"How do I know where to--" he began, but Sammy didn't pay attention. Her response to his half-question was diving back beneath the cover of the water and splashing her tail so water sprayed him in the face.

The first mermaids that she ran into as she neared Atlantis were three kindly-looking old ladies. They sat knitting scarves while sitting in rocking chairs. They frowned at Sammy as she came to a sudden halt, their eyes raking over her body and scrutinizing her. Finally, a tall one with violet colored hair, began to speak.

"Well, look at you, all candy dandy!" she said sarcastically. "I suppose you think you're all perfect, with your golden hair and big blue eyes!"

"Excuse me?" Sammy asked, throwing back her head and looking her straight in the eye.

The shorter, plumper one, with aquamarine colored hair, set down her knitting needles. "Why, you're the very image of a mermaid from the 1600's!" She sneered, showing off strong white teeth. "Don't you know anything, dear? That look is so four-hundred years ago!"

"Oh," Sammy said, very confused. "Erm, thank you. I'll just… be on my way, then."

"Oh, you can't go to Atlantis!" laughed the third and final one. "They're in the middle of some great big war right now… that stupid rat!"

"Um, what?" asked Sam. "Um...I'll see you later, I guess." By this point, Sam was pretty sure that they were either mentally insane or just really, really old. Still it wasn't every day that you go to meet mermaids. So she turned her tail on them and swam away.

•••

Emma was staring at the place where Ana had disappeared.

"It doesn't seem possible," she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else. "I mean... there's no marks, or anything!" But it seemed more covered up than ever, now, the spot where Ana had left through. "I swear, there was light there...how'd it clog back up...?"

Getting down onto her hands and knees, Emma began to scrabble at the ground again. It smelled like Ana, and Emma was sure that this was where she had disappeared from, but there was no light to be found. "Please?" Emma pleaded, praying to Ripred that this would work. "I need to save my friends!"

No such luck. "Give it up," grumbled Polly. "Emma, they'll have to let us out sooner or later."

"But--I--have--to--help--!" said Emma, on the verge of tears. She continued to claw at the ground.

"It's too late!" Polly said, vexed with her friend's behavior. "Listen! Ana is gone. She escaped. If anyone can save us, it's her!"

Emma stumbled backwards, lifting one dirt-encrusted sleeve to rub at her eyes. "You really think so?" she asked.

"I really think so." Polly said firmly, her feet planted on the ground. "Maybe."

"_Maybe?"_ Emma asked, looking up at her friend, dumbfounded. "_Maybe?_ What happened to 'Ana can do it! She can do anything!'?"

Polly shrugged. "Just trying to be realistic," she said.

"What's _realistic_ is that Ana's dead!" Emma shouted, and then began to claw at the ground again. "She's probably dead by now! These people are evil, Polly! They're going to kill us! They don't care!"

"Wait a minute, now," Polly said, holding up her hands in protest. "I didn't mean that-"

"The only way to keep alive is to escape!" Emma shouted, practically in hysterics at this point. "We- need- to- escape!"

"Okay." Polly said, very quietly. "We'll escape."

Emma took a deep breath, then another. "Okay." She repeated. "Now, I need to you to _very quietly_ get David and Dally's attention. If we're going to escape, we're going to do it together."

Polly nodded, then crept to the farthest edge of their cage. Clasping the rough metal bars in her hands, she called, "Dally! David!"

Dally was locked in depression, but David looked upwards. "Polly!" he shouted. "What's up?"

Polly stifled a groan and put a finger to her lips. The guard was patrolling now, made suspicious by the sounds of talking. David nodded, and then moved backwards into the shadows of his cage. Polly retreated as well, waiting for the man to move away.

But he didn't; the guard stood, now, motionless in the middle of the room, cutting off any ideas of talking or making plans for his prisoners.

And finally, when Emma couldn't take it anymore, she began to sob. "What—are—you—doing?" she demanded, glaring at the guard.

A sick smile broke out on his face. She could tell, even with the lack of light. He replied, "Watching my prisoners." His voice was low and grainy, and she shivered. Then the man lifted his wrist to his face and said, "Oh, actually, time's up." He muttered something into his wrist, and suddenly, the room was flooded with men.

"Crap," said Polly.

Noise broke the eerie silence, shattering the moldy air as each new guard marched to a cage and hauled out its contents.

Each forum member received two guards, one on each side, pinning their arms to their sides.

"Let me go!" ordered David, thrashing about. "I swear, I'll—" One of his guards cut him off by shoving a rag into his mouth. He gagged for a moment then gave up.

Dally just went limp and let his guards drag him forward. Emma heard one say, "Walk!" but he didn't comply, and they didn't force him.

The man who had spoken to Emma and patrolled still stood in the middle of the room, a sly grin on his face. "What's going on?" said Emma, glaring at him.

He didn't seem to notice her, but he said, "Moving stations." Whatever that meant. Then he added, "You see, it's time for the forum members to watch their leaders die."

Emma's heart seemed to burst. "Oh, God, no…" she murmured. Then she began to beat at her guards, screaming. "Stop! No!" David looked at her sympathetically. Even he had given up trying to get away from the guards' iron grips.

•••

Her eye hurt. Badly.

_Stupid ninja,_ Abby thought as she plucked the shards of glass from her skin. She winced as a particularly big one was dug from her arm. She was human, now- or at least as human as possible, given the circumstances- and able to move her fingers around. _Oh, dexterity,_ Abby sighed. _How I've missed you._

_What are you doing?_ Demanded the blood voice. _Nothing! You have orders from the boss! You must kill those pesky teenagers!_

_But I don't wanna,_ Abby thought stubbornly. _I already killed that ninja! I'm tired!_

_Being tired is for wimps! You need to go out there and kill!_

Abby shifted her weight around, trying to get comfortable on the cold, hard ground. It wasn't easy. She was tired. She was cold. She was hungry. Sick of being a wolf, sick of following orders. Still... there was blood involved. And fresh, raw human meat. So maybe she would stick around for a while. Then she would take down those Scholastic freaks.

_If you're done with your stupid blood thoughts,_ seethed the Anti-Abby, _then let's go. I have a plan._

Abby wondered what kind of plan her other-self had as she stood up and brushed herself off. Then she leapt forward, out of the mouth of the cave. The second that she hit the ground she was a wolf again, running freely in the wild. Back towards where Scholastic Headquarters lay.

A man in reflective clothing jogged by, panting heavily. "Oh, whoa—!" he gasped, stopping and putting his hands on his knees in an uncomfortable crouch.

Her legs moved effortlessly; she decided, that, if she could always be a wolf, maybe she'd go out for track in eighth grade. That'd be great—she'd win, every time.

Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, something nagged at her. A whiny voice, a girlish voice, a crying voice. It was telling her to stop, stop right now. _You couldn't have killed!_ It wailed. _Maybe you only injured that ninja!_

Abby ignored it. She had done her job, and that ninja was dead. She was sure of it.

When she made it back to Scholastic, she found the scientist waiting for her. "Did you do it?" he asked eagerly. "Did you kill them?"

"One of them," Abby tried to say, but it ended up coming out as a snarl.

"Only one of them? You damn failure." The scientist was evidently fluent in werewolf. "You'd better have a good plan, then."

"Oh, I do," Abby barked, then attempted to laugh evilly. She sounded more like she were sneezing, but that was okay. She would have her revenge.

She was taken back up to her "hotel room", then left to change back into a human. When she had taken a shower and changed her clothes, she relayed her plan to the scientist.

He grinned. "Not bad for a dog," he said, and then laughed. Abby smiled too, a kind of horrible smile that revealed her pointed teeth. "Good, good," said the scientist, standing up and brushing himself off, trying to look professional but failing. He pressed a button by his chair that Abby could only assume was an intercom and called for two guards to come up to the room.

The two guards were quick in coming, and they soon arrived at the room. The scientist explained what they were to do, and then they left, Abby sandwiched in between them. "You're in my space," Abby informed them airily. "A little room?"

They both looked at her and grunted, making no intentions that they were going to move. She sighed and tried not to breathe too much. These guys stunk. When they reached the fourth floor, the men each grabbed one of Abby's arms. She began to scream, acting- perfectly -the part of a terrified captive. They marched her down the hallway, stopping before a padlocked door. One man opened the lock while the other held Abby's arms firmly behind her back. When the first had managed to open the door, her captor pushed her in. Abby stumbled into the room, the world spinning before her eyes. She collapsed onto the floor as the door locked shut behind her.

"Oh my god! Abby! Are you all right?" This came from Emma, who was tied to a chair and facing a screen.

"Emma?" Abby gasped in fake-surprise. She glanced around. The others were all here too- or at least, some of them were. Emma, Polly, David, and Dally were all tied to chair and facing a kind-of movie screen. "What are you all doing here?"

"We got caught when we came here for you!" Polly exclaimed. "Where's Sammy? We assumed she'd be with you!"

"No idea," Abby said, mentally taking note that Sammy was still MIA. That would be one less to kill. "Where's Ana? Where are Jen and Leo?"

"Ana escaped," David informed her, and Evil-Abby sighed. "Jen and Leo are about to be murdered... while we watch."

"What?" Abby exclaimed as her heart leapt for joy. "That's horrible!"

"Yeah," agreed David, looking serious.

"Where'd she escape to?"

"We...don't know," said David. "Otherwise we would've told you."

"Oh," said Abby. "Well, I'll find her." She pricked her ears back, listening carefully now. Then she added, "Oh, and we have to watch them die?" She put on her saddest face.

"Yeah," David said again. "But we can't let that happen."

"You're right," agreed Abby. They all thought she didn't want to watch them die. They were right - Abby wanted to kill them herself.

•••

Private Detective Branson Smith sighed.

He had been sitting at this grandiose table for the last two hours, listening to this women sob her heart out and blather. He'd interjected with questions at first, but she just wailed on and on. Smith wasn't really a people-person, to say the least. He had no idea how to handle a woebegone mother.

It was a standard case. A missing child, distraught- and rich- parents. No doubt a kidnapping had occurred… so why didn't things add up?

Smith frowned. Maybe it was the fact that the child in question was actually a teenage girl, which didn't happen very often anymore. There was also the fact that, although nearly four days had passed, no one had called in with a ransom note. The third and final reason was simple- Smith just wasn't getting a good vibe from the case. At all.

The girl may not have been kidnapped after all. Maybe she was just lost in the enormous mansion. Smith laughed silently.

"Private Detective" Branson Smith wasn't really a suitable name for him. He could more aptly be called "Private Assassin" Branson Smith. As long as the money was there for him, he would assassinate anybody you asked him to. Or, in this case, rescue any kidnapped girl. He heaved a sigh, then tried again to make contact with the hysterical mother.

"Now, do you have any enemies that may have been capable of doing this?"

The women drummed her fingers on the immense table, her red eyes bright from crying. "No… well, maybe," she said. "I mean- my husband, of course, has some work competitors… but nothing like this."

"I see," Smith said, and pretended to write this down. "Now, does your daughter look like you?"

The woman laughed. "Oh, no!" She protested. "She's not actually my daughter- she's my stepdaughter."

"Stepdaughter?" He actually wrote this down. "What happened to the real mother?"

The stepmother waved her hand dismissively. "She died when the girl was ten."

"No enemies to speak of?"

"Not that I know of."

"Okay, thank you," Smith said, and then stood up. "I'll run a background check on your husband and the girl, and get back to you."

"Thank you," the woman said, and then looked at him, face unreadable.

Smith pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. He grabbed his bag and walked to the door, stepping outside and onto the immaculate lawn. Just as he began to walk down the drive, his cell phone vibrated. He answered it with an easy, "Smith. How may I assist you?"

"Boss?" said a voice. Smith sighed. It was his slightly-below-average assistant, Franklin. "I found a picture of the girl."

"How recent?" Smith asked. If the picture were too old, then it would be useless.

"That's the thing sir… it's dated today."

"What?" Smith barked. "How can that be?"

"I don't know, sir." Franklin told him. "But… there's something else weird about her, too."

"Well, spit it out!" Smith roared. Franklin told him. He gasped.

"I know."

"It… it must be a fake. But let's run a trace on the photo, anyways. We may be able to find where it was taken."

"Yes sir." Franklin hung up, and Smith followed suit. He was about to leave the gates of the mansion when the woman ran out onto the yard, yelling something.

"What?" he asked her, turning.

She smiled and pulled something out of her purse, then handed it to him. "Use it when you find her," she simpered. "On her." He nodded, dazed. It was only when he had gotten into his car and pulled away that he glanced down at the item in lap.

A shiny, black… handgun.

•••

The dress was poofy. Too poofy.

In it, Jennifer felt a little bit like she was going to some sort of Prom. A Prom of Death. A Prom of Death sometime in the 1600's. Why they were doing this, she didn't know. Well, she did - to entertain themselves more. She let out a shaky sigh. "I told you," she said, grimacing, to the guard. "I wanted to be hanged."

"But a decapitation is much more entertaining," the guard replied, grinning.

"To you, maybe," muttered Jen.

"Now, now," the guard chastised. "Nothing to _lose your head_ over!" He burst out laughing. Jen glared at him.

"Really, now?" she said, her voice thick. He didn't acknowledge her comment, the tone of her voice.

"Just think!" he said, almost dreamily. "This is going to be a most excellent turnout. Almost better than The Hunger Games!"

"Almost," repeated Jen, gulping. "Oh, Ripred..." Then her eyes grew wider. "Almost? But, it can't be that bad!"

He guffawed. "It's not only you that we're hurting," he said loftily, as if it were common knowledge

Jen felt her blood run cold and she stopped walking. "Who--else--are--you--hurting?" she demanded.

The guard grinned. "That friend of yours. That... that... Lester?"

Jen didn't feel it as she fell to the ground, unable to move or speak. "Leo," she moaned, finally working up air in her chest. "Oh, god...what've you done to him?"

The guard smiled again. "Worse than we've done to you, that's for sure. You're lucky that you're a girl." The guard grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her to her feet, and she paled.

"What do you mean?" she moaned. "What have you done to Leo?"

"I myself have done nothing," grinned the guard. "But our torture devices...they've done some damage.""

"Oh god..." she sighed, and then fell over completely. This was horrible. Her friends were most likely dead, or at the very least horribly hurt, and she was about to be executed along with her secret love. Could this get any worse?

"We're here," said the guard, dragging her limp body up onto a stage in front of the guillotine.

"Stainless...steel?" murmured Jen.

"Easier to get rid of the blood," explained the guard.

Jen felt like she was going to puke.

She looked out into the audience, seeking out a familiar face. No such luck. The people gathered here, all citizens of the Capitol, were totally thrilled to see her execution. With their brightly colored skin and hair, tattooed and bedazlled faces, gem-encrusted bodies, and odd fashion sense, they were not at all the kind of people on whom she could rely. It was incredibly doubtful that anyone would be saving her now. Taking a deep breath, Jennifer Le resigned herself to her fate.

The guard looked at the crowd, raising her right arm by the wrist as if she'd just won a wrestling tournament. "Hello!" bellowed the guard, and the crowd began to cheer insanely. "Welcome Jennifer Le, Hunger Games Trilogy's administrator, number zero-two!"

Then the guard continued, "To make this authentic, we've dressed her up in a _very_ old-fashioned dress, and we're going to behead her!" The audience wasn't quiet until the guard held up a silencing hand when Jennifer was carefully positioned with her neck on the guillotine.

Her breath came in short pants, and she shut her eyes, trying not to freak out…of course, she had to freak out! She was about to be beheaded! All of the things she'd done and never done and never would get to do flashed before Jen's eyes.

_She was lying on a red-and-white checked picnic blanket, munching a sandwich and laughing at something Daddy was doing. Mommy smiled and handed Jenny another napkin as the summer breeze blew the first one away off into the grassy park. _

_She sat in a hard plastic chair, her pencil flying fast, filling every bubble with ease. The SAT was easy, no matter what people had told her, and she was going to do well. Just a few weeks later, as she checked the mail box, Jen was delighted to find that she had aced it._

_She hit "enter" and sent the instant message to Abby and Sammy. "I have to go check something out," was what she sent. Her last connection with the real world…_

_Jen sat across the table in a fancy restaurant from a boy. Not just any boy, but her first boyfriend. He smiled at her, leaving the tab on the table. Then he grabbed her hand and walked her outside, and they traveled around to the back, where stars shone down brightly, and she kissed him._

"_I love you," whispered Jen, gazing up at Leo. She gripped his hands tightly, staring intently into his eyes. He didn't have to speak. She knew what he was going to say. I love you, too. _

Jen stared ahead, her eyes unfocused. "Okay," she said hoarsely. "Let's do this."

Her guard smiled. "Wonderful," he replied, adjusting a rope. Then he let go. She braced herself for the impact of a blade, reassuring herself that the pain would be over as soon as it began.

But it wasn't.

She felt the blade on her neck, in her neck…searing pain….

Then the blade was pulled out, accompanied by the laughter of the guard and the audience. She heard him say, behind the haze of the pain and the horror, "You said you wanted to be hanged, not beheaded."

Jen gasped in pain as two guards stood her up again and tied a rope around her neck. Blood seeped out from beneath of it, spilling down and staining the neckline of her puffy dress.

She was picked up, and then she was standing on a wooden stool, wobbling. She couldn't stand up on this for long....

And then it was kicked out from under her, and she was swinging in the air. There was laughter, cheering, then...dead silence. Sudden screaming.

Just as the world began to turn dark and hazy, a rustling noise passed overhead. Something chopped through the rope, and Jen tumbled to the ground.

Jen could barely make out what was going on, but this is what she did see:

Her friend Ana, yelling her head off, whacking a glinting machete at anyone who got too close to her and Jen. There was a huge amount of people that looked just like her, following her every command.

There was Leo, running across the stage and shouting her name in a hoarse voice. She heard herself barely call, "Leo!" before she was lifted into weak, trembling arms, and the world began to blur. But before the audience was even out of her vision, they were toppling to the ground, and the world was hazy.

The last thing that she saw was a girl with a long brown braid yelling something to Ana while shooting an arrow into the crowd. Somewhere in her bemused mind one thought connected with another, and Jennifer was pushing herself to a sitting position.

"Kat...niss?"" she murmured, the words blurred and unrecognizable. Still, the girl with the braid turned to her and smiled.

"That's my name- don't wear it out."

**End of Part 1**


	11. Chapter 10

**Thanks again for reading! And welcome to Part Two: Panem! Thanks to Aya for the idea of this man being Haymitch—I [Allie] couldn't think of whom it was to be. :p But I also can blame Aya for the crappiness –shifty— Slaves should not be rushed into their work. And Sole, though I think you're already gone, this is what you get for killing San and maiming me in an explosion in your dream. And this is OOC I suppose – characters aren't my [Allie's] best sometimes.**

**Part Two: Panem**

~10~

"That was…weird…," said Miranda, surveying Sara's room with a critical eye. The man still clung to her arm, looking slightly bored. "So, what was that thing?"

"We don't know," replied Dee uneasily. "But wow."

"Werewolf," muttered Sara. She earnestly looked into the eyes of her friends. "That was a werewolf." Miranda and Dee looked at each other for a second then both burst out laughing.

"Werewolf," repeated Miranda, grinning. "I don't think that was it, Sara. You're just freaked out."

"It was something!" shrieked Sara, her nerves on edge. She took a deep breath and smiled. "You're right, that's just my imagination. But then, what was it…?"

"You know what?" said Dee. "It stood on its hind legs. It was something out of the ordinary."

"Obviously," muttered Miranda, rolling her eyes. "You know what? It was a—"

"Muttation," said the man out of the blue, jumping away from Miranda abruptly. "That was a muttation!"

All three of the girls stared at the man in wonder. "Huh?" said Sara. "Haha, I think you're confused, sir." He gave her a miffed look. "I mean, we're all upset, clearly. That was something awful."

"Muttation!" repeated the man. He stared each girl in the eye hard. "You don't know what's going on?"

Dee's eyes widened. "Who is he?" she whispered to Miranda. "You brought him after all."

"I don't know…I needed help," Miranda said softly back.

"My name's Haymitch Abernathy." Miranda, Dee, and Sara all gasped in unison. They all knew the name.

"But…but…you don't exist!" gasped Sara, stepping back. "You're a character in a book, a book that has a site that I moderate…."

"I don't exist?" asked the man, cocking his head. "Well, that's a downer." He sighed, rolling his eyes. "No, no, I do exist. And you're idiots."

"Um, sorry?" said Miranda. "But, uh, how…?"

"No time," said Haymitch, starting for the door.

"Why were you so surprised if you know what's going on?" demanded Dee, suspicious.

"Well, we all have our reasons," replied Haymitch dismissively, hurrying through the door, only stopping to snap, "Come on, now, we have to go save the world!"

"What?" gasped Miranda. "I think I picked the wrong guy off the street."

"Oh well," shrugged Sara. "He seems to know what's happening, after all."

"Good call, really," agreed Dee, following Haymitch with quick strides. Sara was the last out of the room, and she shut the door behind her. In their haste, they hadn't contended with the damage, hadn't thought anything through. After they'd escaped the house, Dee finally felt the pain of glass stinging her skin. Miranda looked uncomfortable, as well, though she hadn't really gotten hurt. There was a long scratch over one of Sara's eyes, winding its way down to her chin.

"Wait!" cried Sara suddenly. "The ninja! We have to go help him!"

Haymitch glared at Sara. "No time. He's probably dead anyway." Sara's eyebrows knit together in worry for the boy she barely knew, the ninja who'd saved her life more than once.

"But…," she began, then stopped. She knew Haymitch. She'd read the Hunger Games enough to know how he operated. He wasn't going to relent.

Even so, Sara's eyes filled with empathy. She looked at Miranda hopelessly, the words she wanted to say fallen from her lips. "I'll go see if he's okay," whispered Miranda. "I can always transport myself back to you guys. Don't get too far." And she ran off.

The minutes of silence trekking through the streets was awful. They acted as if nothing had happened, nothing had gone wrong. They were just two teenage girls and a man hurrying through street-lamp lit streets. But in reality, they were two scared teenage girls from Hunger Games Trilogy and a man named Haymitch Abernathy come alive from a book fleeing from a wreckage caused by a Capitol-made (another thing that wasn't supposed to exist: the Capitol) creature. A muttation.

Finally, a flash of light shimmered in front of them, and they all quit walking. Miranda appeared, a haggard, upset look on her face. "He's gone!" she cried. "Sara, I'm so sorry, the ninja is gone!"

"Unknown disappeared?" said Dee, surprised. "But he couldn't have survived that! So he couldn't have gotten away, could he?" Unless that monster-muttation ate him. Dee cringed inwardly at her own thoughts. But the beast is gone. We knew that somehow. It is gone.

"Yeah," said Miranda. "But however he got away…it can't be good." The way she avoided Sara's gaze made it clear that something had been wrong.

"What did you see?" asked Sara, her voice strained. No matter how weird that ninja had been, he'd helped her…given his life for her and Dee….

Miranda gulped. "You know a ninja's sword? Katana or something?"

"Yeah," Sara answered, barely audible now. "Why? Was it…was it….?"

"It was there, broken in half, stained with blood," said Miranda, shutting her eyes for a moment, reliving the scene, no doubt. "Glass everywhere, sparkling…but this was the good kind of sparkle, unlike in Twilight, y'know? But still bad. God." Her voice wavered. "I heard police sirens, too. We've got to go faster."

True to her word, they, in less than a minute, could hear the wail of sirens. Haymitch's eyes flashed. "Let's go." He rushed forward, not even looking back to see if the girls were following him.

"I could make us go faster, you know," muttered Miranda, though no one was really paying attention. Plus, Haymitch seemed set on running. Maybe it was because running was something he was used to.

After a while, they'd escaped the fear of police. Now they were on a highway that had very few streetlamps, all spread so far apart that the small group could barely see. Sara stopped running and stared out forward, her eyes cold.

"What?" demanded Haymitch. "I'm not afraid to leave you here, you know."

"I—this is where I lost them." Her words were soft but clear. "I don't know if I can go."

"Okay," said Haymitch. "Nice meeting you." Dee glared at him, grabbed Sara's hand, and whispered something that made a half smile creep onto Sara's face.

"I'm coming," said Sara. "Let's go." The three girls and man walked forward and were engulfed in the streetlight-caused shadows.

. . .

It was time to act. They trusted her now, but if this went on any longer…. Abby couldn't help it. She was salivating. The urge to kill was so strong, so overpowering.

Abby couldn't wait to rip her friends' throats out.

But they didn't know that. Not yet. She had to have a plan…she had to kill them when they weren't ready…she had to be able to get all of them. Every last one. But she wanted the blood now.

"So, how do you think we get out of here?" said Emma quietly. "I think I have a plan, though, one that could help us even if we get captured again." She began to whisper rapidly, telling her idea to her friends, and finished with, "What do you think? Will it work?"

"I don't know, probably," responded David. "I just hate being so confined, roped to the chair like this…."

"I don't," muttered Abby. "I could just burst out any time I wanted…."

"What was that?" asked Polly, looking up and staring at Abby with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Abby said, turning her gaze downwards. Ignore the urge…fight the urge…. "I'm fine. And it was nothing, nothing important."

"Really?" said Polly, eyeing Abby. "You…has it been hard here? What've they done to you?"

"Not…much," Abby replied cautiously. She closed her eyes for a second, and then her lying gear turned on. She'd never been too bad of a liar. Her whole life, she'd been able to easily spin a web of things that were opposite the truth, break promises. Not her best trait, but a helpful one all the same. "They took me in for questioning though."

"What'd they ask you?" asked Emma, her voice both curious and gentle.

Abby shivered and stared off, concentrating hard on a scratch on the wall opposite her. "I don't want to talk about it," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper.

"Did they hurt you?"

Shutting her eyes tightly, Abby said, "In ways you can never imagine. They changed me in there." Not a complete lie but still the same effect. "They've hurt you too."

No time to answer. Luckily. Abby was getting bored and tired of waiting. But then Abby realized why they were being disrupted.

"No time!" was the first thing she caught, down hallways and corridors. Then, "Let's go get them. Now."

Abby burst from her ropes just as the door was unlocked. Everyone from HGT gasped and stared at her. Already, her claws were out, slashing at what used to be her chair. "Good to be rid of that."

"What did they do to you?" breathed Emma.

"Too much," Abby said, a smile breaking out on her face. Her fangs were already growing, already protruding from blood-red gums.

"There! Grab them!" shouted a voice, and Abby looked over and smiled.

"What?" said David, confused as ever. "Abby, are you all right?"

"I don't know," she retorted, turning back to him with a snarl on her face. "Do I look all right?"

"No."

"Thanks." Already, she was forming into a deadly wolf. A small part of her, from the back of her mind, the back of her soul, broke through and she managed to whimper, "Help," before she was towering over them on furry dark legs.

"Oh, crap," muttered Polly. "Abby, what have you become?"

The wolf-girl growled in response. "She needs our help," said Emma, gulping.

"Duh," said Polly.

Men in suits poured into the room. "Hey!" one barked as he saw David trying to scoot his chair back. It might've worked, too, if he hadn't been such an idiot and known that the legs of his chair scraped loudly against the floor.

Accidentally, David bumped into Dally, who had been staring off into a place that didn't exist. "Hey!" cried Dally, toppling over. "That was not cool, David."

"You're right, it wasn't," he agreed immediately, then shook his head. "Quickly!"

"No," moaned Dally. "I just…Ana…."

"She could very well be dead now," said David.

Dally's eyes opened and he tried to stand up but failed. "What!" he shouted. "No!"

One of the guards grabbed the back of Dally's chair, lifted it effortlessly, and bellowed, "The airing of the torture has been cut out of the program."

"Why?" Emma demanded. "Did you stop it because you're all wimps and—"

"Technical difficulties," said the man coldly.

"I doubt it," sneered Emma.

Then, without warning, the man strode up to Emma and struck her across the face. She let out a cry and gritted her teeth, seething at the man.

"Don't do that," said David weakly, trying to help Dally as well. "Let him go, you idiot!" Dally's capturer didn't hear him over the din or simply chose to ignore him. Either way, Dally's lack of vigor, the way he didn't even try to fight back, wasn't helping.

"Get it over with," Dally was mumbling, shaking his head incoherently. David stared in surprise. Was he this broken, this messed up? Could a girl seriously have done this to him? That couldn't be possible. No way was that possible. David had had a fair share of girls break up with him, almost every day, but that'd never hurt long. In fact, he just got another girlfriend to keep his heart light—why couldn't Dally do the same?

The guard looked down at Dally, his eyes not visible beneath dark sunglasses. David stared. Sunglasses? Down here? Unless they were just being like the guards in movies, where, of course, all of them had to wear sunglasses.

David glanced back at Dally pityingly, and then his ropes were cut and he was being hauled away.

. . .

His mind had turned into a big pile of mush. The gross kind of mush. Kind of like the oatmeal that his little sister had tried to make one time. Dally had ended up sneaking it to his dog beneath the table; he would've just told her that it sucked, but his parents had been there, staring critically at him whenever he made a disgusted face while trying to choke it down.

After being pushed over, he'd returned back into his own little universe, thinking hard about one thing, one person, one subject: Ana.

Dally had to force himself to breathe. Get over it, get over it. He was going to have to come to eventually, resurfacing in the real world soon. No one else got catatonic like this when their lover broke up with them. Except for maybe some spineless wimp.

But he wasn't a wimp! He couldn't be! He was a six-foot-tall stubborn Irishman, not a wimp. Or maybe he was a wimp. But he didn't' want to be.

"Get it over with," he muttered, still off in a world of his own. And he knew that even if he moved on, Ana would still be a part of his life, a part of him, and he would never forget her. But now…he hated her.

Dally hated Ana for breaking up with him. The one girl he really loved.

He balled his hands into fists and opened his eyes. His glasses had been torn away, lost, maybe broken, but who cared? Whatever was happening, he was ready for it…

…Or maybe he wasn't ready for it.

Everywhere men milled around in black suits. They dragged kids and chairs around, their hair slicked darkly back on their heads. They wore dark glasses, and spiral cords hung from their ears and disappeared beneath their jacket collars. They looked professional—so what were they doing now, grabbing everyone like they were?

"Hey!" yelled Dally, his voice sounding more hoarse and pained than he'd wanted to. Just the same, it was Dally's voice, and Dally had an accent. "Leave them alone!"

He might as well have been a bug or something, because they gave him no attention except for to drag his chair in an unknown direction. "Let us go!" Nothing.

The swarm of men in suits was getting so big, so thick, like a cloud of mosquitoes in a warm wet area. Dally couldn't even see his fellow members of Hunger Games anymore. He began to yell until his voice was so scratchy he could hardly utter a sound.

He caught a flash of fur and his hair stood on end. What is that? But denying what is known does not help the truth fade away; it only becomes more prominent.

That's Abby, and she's some sort of wolf. No matter how dead to the world Dally was, even if he hadn't reacted, he'd seen. He'd known. Werewolf.

"I have to get out of here," whispered Dally subconsciously, his voice hardly audible to even himself.

"What was that?" the man tugging his chair demanded in a chilling, gruff voice.

"Nothing, Sir," Dally managed to say.

"I distinctly heard 'I have to get out of here,'" replied the man.

"Then why'd you ask?"

In answer, the man let out a low whistle, and a huge wolf, standing on its hind legs galloped effortlessly through the crowd of tight-packed men. It growled menacingly. "Abby?" said Dally. The wolf stared at him. But it was she.

The man nodded subtly at the wolf, then stepped back as far as he could, and the wolf lunged forward to attack Dally. He was aware of a sharp pain in his leg, and then he was screaming.

. . .

"There, you're safer now," said a gentle voice, hard but soft at the same time.

"What?" Jennifer said softly, blinking hard.

"Well, not safe," the voice continued. "They'll be attacking us in minutes. I'll try to defend you as best I can. I've been hunting long enough after all."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Long enough. Don't ask questions yet. You won't be able to handle it." The voice sounded slightly sick, tired, annoyed, and bitter on the edge of it.

"What? But what's going on?"

"I said don't ask questions." Jen set her lips in a hard line and attempted to sit up. When her eyes finally adjusted, what had happened before she blacked out flooded back into her mind. A slim, small girl with a dark braid stood in front of her, wearing a simple dark shirt and pants and leather boots, shooting arrows at whomever came near. "You've got to run in a minute. I'm running low on arrows." She impatiently searched the crowd. "Where is he? He was supposed to bring me more arrows!"

Jen thought about asking who but decided against it. Instead she said, "I have to run?" Katniss Everdeen didn't even glance in her direction, and Jen didn't have time to wait for an answer. A throbbing pain erupted at the back of her neck, and it was so awful she thought she might faint again.

Someone in dark clothing ran forward, a weapon in his or her hand. "Ana!" exclaimed Katniss, not pausing in arcing an arrow into a deadly spot in a nearby man's neck.

"Can't talk," responded Ana.

"What's going on?" demanded Jen. "Tell me or I'll fire you!"

"I'm me. You can't fire that," Ana retorted. "You've got to run. The Capitol's overrunning my Capitol army."

"You…have…an…army?"

"Duh."

A woman wearing something just like Ana was wearing hurried up to her, a smaller machete in her hand. "Commander," she panted.

"What?" demanded Ana, looking slightly bored.

"I need help."

"Can't you see? I've got a whole army to run, not just one person," she said carelessly. "But what?"

"My knife needs to be sharpened."

"Go figure. I dunno, find flint or something." Jen stared in disbelief. What was going on?

"Thank you, Commander." And she hurried back into the crowd of fighting people.

Then Katniss yelled, "Run, Jennifer! Run while you're still alive!" Jen had no choice but to stumble to her feet and try to get away from the impending danger.

. . .

After urging Jennifer to escape, Ana found herself back in the battle, hacking away at Capitol residents with her machete. She fought at the head of her army, shouting orders as she went. This machete wasn't as good as her old one but it was definitely kickass.

For every Capitol enemy she took down, another seemed ready to take the first's place. The next person that got in her way got a mouthful of metal. Though dangerous, this was still fun as hell. Ana had always wanted a good excuse to wield her machete. She pulled it back and stabbed again.

She heard the sound of someone raising a weapon behind her and whirled around, killing them before they even had the chance to try hurting her. Screw guns and tanks, hand-to-hand combat was definitely cooler. That was where her Goddess-given talent lay, anyhow: with knives, machetes, close combat. She was born for this.

With that thought, Ana slashed her machete at her next opponent.

. . .

Atlantis was like nothing she had ever seen. But it also wasn't like she expected. At all.

First, Sammy had thought that Atlantis was underwater, and it was, in a sense. Second, she thought it was supposed to sparkle, because, after all, it was a palace in the sea. And third, she thought it would be inhabited by mermaids and fish, living in harmony and all that.

This wasn't any of those things.

There were lobsters. A ton of them. Huge ones. And they were invading. At least, Sam gathered that they were. Because people were running—not swimming, save a few—around screaming whenever one clicked its pincers together.

Sammy swished her tail, propelling herself forward. Was this seriously Atlantis?

What a bad day. No hot guys, then this.

"I need a doctor!" she called importantly, but nobody was paying attention to her.

When a big red lobster glided towards her, waving its antennae menacingly, she made a dive for it, heading towards what looked like a building of importance. There wasn't much that could happen if she was wrong, though.

Or, at least, she hoped so.


End file.
